Surreality
by Perse
Summary: Harry begins to have vivid dreams...happy dreams, showing what his life might have been like with his parents. But Dumbledore and Snape think this is the Dark Lord’s doing, and that it needs to be undone. COMPLETE
1. A Perfect World

Title: Surreality

Author: Perse

Rating: PG

Category: drama, angst

Summary: At the beginning of 6th year, Harry begins to have vivid dreams. The catch is that they are happy dreams, showing what his life might have been like with his parents. But Dumbledore and Snape think this is the Dark Lord's doing, and that it needs to be undone. (Snape mentors Harry, non-slash)

Disclaimer: The characters and situations of _Harry Potter_ do not belong to me. I make no money from this story. Please don't sue.

Author's Note: This is eventually going to be a Snape and Harry story, though Snape won't show up for a few chapters. Dream scenes are in _italics_. Enjoy!

Chapter 1

oOo

"_Harry Potter, if you don't get up right now, I'm going to come up there and drag you out by your toes!"_

_Harry merely grunted and rolled over, pulling the sheet up over his head._

"_I don't think she's joking, son," came a male voice a few minutes later, much closer. The bed dipped as the man sat beside him._

_Harry didn't bother to open his eyes. "She always says that. She's yet to do it," he said fuzzily._

"_Perhaps that's because she knows I have a better way."_

_He was still too sleepy to register that threat. He didn't even sense trouble until the sheet had been yanked away and he was being mercilessly tickled._

"_Dad!" he protested, giggling and writhing. "All right, I'm up! I'm up!"_

_James Potter chuckled and relented. "You're awake, but you're not up. Come on," he coaxed, pulling him upright. Harry watched him through bleary eyes as his father smiled and reached out a hand to smooth his hair. "I am sorry you inherited this. Too bad you didn't get your mother's hair genes along with her eyes."_

"_Nope, no good. People would confuse me and Ron."_

_His father laughed. "Good point. Let's go; your Mum's about to give your breakfast to the dog."_

_Harry rolled out of bed and, grabbing his glasses along the way, followed his father. "We don't have a dog," he mumbled. "Not 'till Sirius gets here, anyway."_

_In the hallway, his father draped an arm around his shoulders and steered him towards the kitchen. "How do you manage to get up at school?" he asked._

"_I don't. Why do you think I'm always late for class?" Harry shot back._

"_I just thought you were following in my footsteps. Up to no good, perhaps?"_

_Harry smirked, then placed his left hand over his heart and his right in the air. "I solemnly swear…that I will never do anything you didn't do."_

"_Oh, well _that_ is comforting," a female voice interjected. As they entered the kitchen Lily Potter turned to them, flicking long strands of thick red hair over her shoulder. "Do me a favor Harry, and stay out of your father's footsteps."_

_James sputtered, "Hey, I turned out all right!"_

_She merely raised an eyebrow at him._

_Trying not to laugh, Harry innocently said, "Morning, Mum," and went to give her a kiss on the cheek._

"_So what are you two up to today?" James asked as he gathered his things for work._

"_I'm taking Harry shopping. He needs new pants," Lily said as she handed Harry his breakfast._

"_Mum!" Harry complained, thinking of many things he would rather do with a summer day than shop for clothing._

_James gave him a completely unsympathetic look. "Have fun, son."_

_Harry mustered as good a sneer as he could manage that early in the morning before taking his seat and giving his attention to his food._

_James crossed over to Lily. "Have a good day sweetheart," she told him, and they shared a quick kiss._

_Harry gave his obligatory "Yuck" at the display of affection, though he was smiling. His Dad gave him a look, then came and planted a huge kiss on Harry's forehead. Harry wrinkled his nose. "Da-ad!" he complained. But he didn't really mind._

_They shared a smile as James finally got out the door and off to work._

oOo

"Harry? Wake up, Harry. You really have to wake up now."

He came awake with a start, blinking up at the fuzzy but familiar red head. He fumbled for his glasses, putting them on and bringing Ron into focus.

His friend looked mildly concerned. "Are you okay, mate? I've been trying to wake you for half an hour. You're usually up before me."

"Yes. Yes, I'm fine."

Ron didn't seem to be buying that, probably because he was so accustomed to dealing with Harry's nocturnal problems. Sure enough he soon asked, "No nightmares?"

"No," he answered honestly. "Not nightmares."

Ron studied him for a moment. Apparently he concluded that he was all right, for he said, "Well, come on then. We'll be late and in detention on the first day if you don't hurry."

Ron moved off to finish getting ready and Harry sat up with a groan. In the past, he had looked forward to the first day of classes. But not this year. This year, he hadn't looked forward to coming back to Hogwarts at all.

For everything the magical world had given him, it also kept demanding that he give things up. He missed Sirius with a pain that was nearly physical. And the prophecy—and his future—hung over him like a guillotine.

But that dream…that dream had seemed so real. At the moment, he thought he would give anything to be living in that dream. The sense of loss and impending doom constantly blanketed him in his waking hours. The happiness he had felt in the dream was something he had never really felt. As it left him now, he felt an ache set in somewhere deep inside him.

It was almost enough to make him forget classes, and just go back to sleep.

In fact, after simply sitting on the edge of his bed for a few minutes, he let himself fall back over into the pillows, glasses and all. He had just shut his eyes again when he heard an exasperated, "Harry!"

Then Ron was tugging him upright, telling him that if he was sick he was taking him to the hospital wing, and if he wasn't they were going for breakfast while there was still breakfast to be had. Harry still felt a bit fuzzy, but he allowed Ron to pull him out of bed and prompt him to get dressed. Slowly, his friend's presence began to soothe that ache he had been feeling.

And somewhere he found the strength to begin his 6th year at Hogwarts.

oOo

to be continued

This first chapter was more of a little prologue; I promise they'll get longer. Constructive feedback is welcome!


	2. Perchance to Dream

Surreality

By Perse

Chapter 2

oOo

By early afternoon, when they were done with classes for the day, Harry was feeling that ache again. He felt as if there was an incredible pressure weighing on him. He just felt…tired. He wanted to go back to bed.

Especially if there was any chance that he might have another dream like the one he'd had last night.

He tried sitting in the common room with Hermione and Ron, but he couldn't keep his mind on their conversation. At one point, in the midst of some argument they were having, Ron turned to him and asked him to back him up. Harry stared at him blankly, then said, "Sorry, what was the question?"

"You're not even listening, are you?" Ron accused with a slight smile.

"Sorry," Harry said sheepishly as he stood. "Look, I'm rather tired. I think I'm going to go up and take a nap."

That earned him another concerned look reminiscent of that morning. "Are you _sure_ you're feeling all right?" Ron asked. When Harry shot him a glare he added, "It just seems that you're sleeping an awful lot. It's not like you."

Now that Ron had voiced his concerns, Hermione would take up the charge. Sure enough, she came over to him and pressed a hand to his forehead. Harry rolled his eyes, then looked at her expectantly.

She shrugged. "He feels normal."

He snorted. "Normal. Normal would be nice."

He regretted saying it, for they exchanged a glance and then both looked at him with a slightly anxious, slightly pitying look. He sighed and said, "Never mind. Wake me for dinner, will you?"

As Ron promised to do so, Harry turned to head up the stairs. He could feel them both watching him, probably worrying. But there was really nothing to worry about. He just wanted to sleep; that was all.

oOo

"_Would you relax? It is perfectly normal for teenagers to fight with their parents."_

_Harry paused with his hand on the kitchen door, figuring it was nice to wait until people were done talking about you to interrupt them. Instead he stood still and leaned closer, listening._

"_We are not fighting," Lily asserted. "We are simply having a minor disagreement about his curfew and how far he is allowed to go on that broom."_

"_He told her she was overreacting," James confided in their guest, with a definite bit of amusement in his voice._

"_Yes, and the disrespect itself should add to his punishment. And you were no help whatsoever!"_

"_I'm sorry, Lil! You know I'm no good at playing bad cop. But if you think we should ground him, I agree."_

"_Oh, come on James!" another voice interrupted. "You've at least got to let him go with us to the game."_

_Suddenly a quiet voice came from behind Harry, much closer. "Hear anything interesting?"_

_Harry jumped, spinning guiltily to face Remus Lupin. The older man had a half-smile on his face as he raised his eyebrows. _

"_They're discussing my punishment," he said sheepishly._

"_And what did you do?"_

_Harry flushed slightly. "I missed curfew by a few minutes." When Remus just continued looking at him he confessed, "Okay, a lot of minutes…because I was too far away to get home on time."_

"_And have they settled on anything yet?"_

"_Mum wants to ground me for a month. A month! I wouldn't get to leave the house until I go back to school!"_

_Remus nodded sympathetically. "Let me guess…your Dad thinks that's too severe?"_

"_Well…not him so much as Sirius. He's campaigning to let me go to the Quidditch match. Remind me to tell him how much I love him, would you?"_

_Remus chuckled. "He knows. He loves you, too. So do your parents." He leaned down, catching Harry's eyes. "You shouldn't scare your Mum like that. She just wants you to be safe."_

"_I was safe," he protested slightly. "But I know what you mean," he admitted forlornly, then looked up with his best puppy dog eyes. "I still want to go to the match."_

_Remus smiled and put an arm around his shoulders. "Let's see what we can do about that," he said as he pulled him through the kitchen door._

_The three adults in the living room looked up at them as they entered. Remus released Harry and he went to the couch, taking a seat between his father and Sirius, trying to look contrite and not as hopeful as he was feeling._

_The thing about Remus and Sirius was that they were practically family—immediate family. His parents had never had any qualms about taking care of family business in front of them or with their participation, though sometimes he thought his Mum was a little miffed by it. They had been his Dad's friends first, after all, and the three of them still shared something his Mum would never be a part of—full moons. But she did love them, nevertheless. And she certainly didn't mind punishing Harry in front of them._

"_I'm sorry Harry, but you know the rules. You're grounded for the next two weeks," his Mum stated._

_That was a bit less than a month, but it still covered the Quidditch game. Harry turned to his Dad, puppy dog eyes firmly in place again._

_But it wasn't working. "I'm sorry, Harry. Your mother's right," James declared._

_Harry frowned, then scooted away from him and settled against Sirius' shoulder, pouting._

_Sirius wrapped an arm around him, gently grasping his chin with his other hand. "Oh, come on, Prongs. How can you resist this face?"_

"_If we had resisted a very similar face we wouldn't have landed in half the trouble we did growing up," Remus interjected wryly as he took a seat in the nearby chair._

_James managed a short, "Hey!"_

"_Yeah, and we wouldn't have had half the fun," Sirius shot back._

"_Fun is not the point here," Lily said firmly._

_Sirius released Harry's chin and lay his head against his, adding his own puppy dog eyes to the mix._

_James snickered. Lily rolled her eyes, but didn't budge._

"_I think Harry might be willing to take an extra week if he could be allowed to go to the match," Remus suggested softly, looking to Harry._

_Harry met his gaze. That wasn't exactly what he would have wanted, but he supposed it was a fair deal. He nodded, looking to his mother._

_She hesitated, then she and his father shared a moment of silent communication before she looked back to him. "All right. But you stay right with them at the game, understood? Supervised at all times."_

_He jumped out of Sirius' grasp and went to give her a hug. "Thanks, Mum."_

_She returned the embrace, then stood to head for the kitchen, leaving the boys to their antics. _

_Harry returned to the couch. "Thanks, Dad. Thanks, Siri."_

"_No problem. See how good I am with women?" Sirius teased with a smug smile, speaking to Harry but obviously meaning for James to hear._

"_Uh, I think that was much more Remus than you," James shot back. "And don't talk about my wife like that, you crazy git."_

_Harry jumped out from between them before he could get caught in the crossfire and headed in the direction his mother had gone. He caught Remus' eye, and the older man gave him an approving smile._

_In the kitchen, he went straight to his mother and hugged her lightly from behind. "I'm sorry, Mum. I didn't mean to worry you." _

_She turned around with a gentle smile. "I know. You're a good boy, Harry. I just want you to be—"_

"_Safe, I know," he said with a smile. _

_From the living room, they heard a howl of laughter, and a thump that was probably a couple of bodies hitting the floor._

_Harry raised his eyebrows and headed back towards the door. "Though really, I think you should have told me to watch them instead of the other way around."_

"_I think you may be right."_

_He looked back at her standing at the sink, tried to return her radiant smile, then headed back into the fray._

oOo

When Ron woke him for dinner, he almost told his friend to go without him and let him sleep. But his stomach was rumbling, and Ron looked worried enough. So he dragged himself from his warm bed and his dream and made his way to the Great Hall.

As they walked he wondered why he found a dream about punishment so happy. But he concluded that it was because it was such a normal scene; what he very well might have had if he had been a normal child. And because the people in it were the adults he should have been able to love. The dream showed great relationships and caring despite the situation.

The one drawback was that he was now even more tired than he had been before. He was half-asleep as he sat down with his friends and began to eat. He was only a few minutes into his meal when he felt a prickling on the back of his neck, a sign that generally meant someone was watching him.

He glanced up at the teacher's table. Sure enough, Dumbledore was watching him, probably noticing that he looked ready to fall asleep in his soup. Harry gave him a slight nod, meant to convey that he was okay. The wizard gave him a slight, gentle smile before looking away.

However, the prickling didn't go away. He let his eyes drift over the rest of the teacher's table, then froze in surprise.

Snape was watching him as well.

_That_ woke him up a bit. The Potions Master did not look away as the Headmaster had. He held Harry's gaze as he narrowed his own eyes, brow furrowed. It wasn't menacing, exactly, but it did have an air of suspicion.

It was Harry who finally broke the stare, turning back to the table with an unsettled feeling. He was used to scrutiny from Snape when it came in conjunction with criticism and insults. He wasn't sure what to make of the man studying him so intently from across the room with no actual words exchanged.

He tried to shake it off. He wasn't afraid of Snape anymore; he had too many negative emotions towards him. He still blamed him, at least partially, for Sirius' death and he'd developed a very small opinion of the older man. It was hard to be afraid of someone you had so little respect for.

But he had managed to make him uncomfortable now. Harry finished his dinner hurriedly, then excused himself to go back to the dorm.

As he walked out he knew his friends were once again watching him in concern. But they were not the only ones, as a glance back confirmed. Dumbledore's gaze was on him again. And it was possible that Snape's had never wandered. Feeling as if he were in a fishbowl, Harry quickened his steps and left the Great Hall, making for his bed and his much more comfortable dream-world.

oOo

to be continued


	3. Confrontation

Surreality

By Perse

Chapter 3

oOo

_Harry wandered into the kitchen after a fairly sleepless night. He had been kept awake by thuds and barks and howls emanating from their basement. He didn't mind. It was only one night a month. And it was really rather fascinating to think that there was a werewolf in his basement playing with two Animagi._

_He was standing at the refrigerator, searching for the milk, when he heard a clomping sound behind him. He turned, stared for a moment, then turned towards the hallway and called, "Mum, there's a deer in the kitchen again!" _

_But when he turned back, it was no longer a deer. "I prefer stag, thank you!" James proclaimed before he pounced. Shortly, they were a tangled mess of limbs wrestling on the kitchen floor._

"_James, you are not fifteen anymore! Get off the floor!" Lily exclaimed as she entered the battle zone. "Honestly, you've been up all night. Where do you find this energy?"_

_He hauled himself off of Harry and sidled up to her. "I may not be fifteen anymore, but I do have the body of a twenty-five year old."_

_She gave him a playful shove backwards. "See, you're so tired you're delirious!" she said, patting his cheek. _

"_Well, that contradicts what you said a few nights ago."_

"_Oh, far too much information," Harry moaned before she could respond, hands covering his ears. "There is a child in the room, you know."_

_His father turned back towards him with a look that clearly said he was in for it now. Luckily, he was saved by the appearance of his godfather and his 'uncle.'_

_Sirius made his way into the kitchen supporting Remus. Harry jumped up from the floor to pull out a chair for him, and Remus cast him a grateful smile as he eased down into it._

"_How are you feeling this morning, Remus?" Lily asked in concern._

"_All right. Though I must admit, I'm exhausted. These two run me ragged."_

_Sirius sputtered, "Us? Like Moony isn't the instigator!"_

"_You are the leader of the pack, you know," James added affectionately._

_Remus gave him a half-smile. "That may be true. But I'll have you know that I've managed a couple of nice, calm full moons when you two weren't around."_

"_Listen to him, blaming everything on us!" Sirius complained, nevertheless getting him a glass of juice and taking up a position behind him so he could rub sore shoulders._

_Remus thanked him for the actions, but then continued as if he hadn't said anything. "Of course, that's all due to the potion. Whatever else you may say about Snape, I will always be grateful for the wolfsbane potion."_

"_And I am happy for you, Remus, though I doubt helping you was his goal. For Harry's sake, I wish the greasy git was far from Hogwarts."_

"_Sirius!" Lily exclaimed, clearly not wanting him referred to in that way in front of Harry._

_Harry spoke up, "Mum, it's all right. You really think I haven't heard him called worse?"_

"_You had better not be the one doing the calling, young man," she said warningly._

_Harry managed a contrite, "Yes, Ma'am," which wasn't exactly lying. Because really, he was just acknowledging her statement, not attesting to things he might have done in the past._

_No one in the room seemed to buy that, however. Sirius was smirking. "Oh, leave him alone, Lily. You remember what a git Snape could be. And I stand by what I've told you since first year, Harry. If he gets too bad, you tell me. I'll take care of it."_

"_I seriously doubt that would make things better," Lily put in sternly._

"_I already tried," James admitted in a low tone._

_Harry made a strangled noise. He hadn't known that. No wonder Snape had been even more ornery lately; he hated James. He probably thought Harry had gone running to him for help. He could only imagine the reaction the Potions Master would have to Sirius showing up in his defense._

_His Mum patted him on the back, apparently thinking he had choked on his juice, then she voiced his thoughts. "You should just leave it alone; you only make it worse. There is a reason he is so difficult on Harry, you know." She gave each of them a pointed look._

_This was obviously an argument they'd had before. And Harry had tried to keep most of his encounters with Snape from them. "I think Mum's right," he asserted, getting all of their attention. "And really, It's not that bad. I can handle Snape."_

oOo

"_Harry_," Ron was hissing as he shook his shoulder.

Stiff from his sleeping position, Harry slowly raised his head. He found himself staring into Snape's dark, stormy eyes. _'Oh, the irony,'_ he thought briefly as he tried to sit up and get his bearings. Now he remembered…he was sitting in Potions class. He must have fallen asleep.

Snape did not look pleased.

"Late night, Mr. Potter?" Snape's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Obviously you found something more important than class. Perhaps you would like to share?"

Harry took a quick glance at the rest of the class. The Gryffindors looked sorry for him, yet very glad not to be in his place. The Slytherins were practically salivating in anticipation of his punishment.

Harry, however, felt only one emotion. The discomfort he had felt the night before at dinner was gone now that the situation was more familiar.

Nobody was here to even offer to stand up for him. He would have to take care of himself. But that was okay—he wasn't afraid of Snape. He wasn't intimidated, he wasn't worried about the punishment that could be heaped upon him.

He was simply angry.

So he opened his mouth and responded, "It's nothing, really. I just found some people actually _worth_ listening to."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ron's jaw drop. Then his friend shifted away slightly, probably trying to get out of the path of Snape's impending wrath.

Sure enough, Snape's face twisted into a most unpleasant sneer. "Perhaps if you listened, you would not be so terribly hopeless with your studies. Enough hard work can, on occasion, make up for a lack of natural intelligence."

A sense of self-preservation should have kicked in then and told Harry to let it go and seethe in silence. That sense was strangely absent.

"Maybe I think it more important to apply my 'natural intelligence' and my studying to classes that are more useful and less tedious and _pointless_."

"If you expect to be an auror," Snape paused, expression letting everyone know just how unlikely he thought that was, "You will require my 'pointless' and 'tedious' course."

Harry fumed, wondering how he had learned that. Over Snape's shoulder, he could see Draco and his friends snickering at the possibility. With cold anger in his voice he turned his attention back to Snape and said, "I have talked about being an auror. I'll make you a deal. You keep pretending you care what I might do with my life, and I'll keep pretending I expect to live that long."

Snape drew back slightly at that, expression becoming unreadable. After a moment of dead silence he said, "Twenty points from Gryffindor for your attitude. And you will see me after class, Mr. Potter. We will schedule the wealth of detention you have just earned." With that he spun and walked back to the front of the room, robes billowing in his wake.

Harry scowled at his back. Draco was smirking at him; Harry shot him a murderous glare that was so intense the smirk actually faltered before Malfoy turned back around.

Ron cautiously shifted closer to him again. It was somewhat sobering that his best friend seemed a bit leery of him. He kept throwing concerned glances Harry's way for the rest of the hour.

Snape, luckily, avoided another direct confrontation with Harry until after class.

Ron and Hermione were dawdling in their worry, but after Snape took ten points from each of them for loitering they filed out after the other students and Snape returned to his office. Harry was already slumped in the chair before his desk, wishing he had never gotten out of bed that morning. He came to with a snap when Snape slammed the door and strode to his chair. "You owe me an apology, Mr. Potter."

Harry stared at him for a beat, then said snidely and entirely insincerely, "Sorry."

Snape's dark eyes flashed. "You also owe me respect."

"I'm terribly sorry, _sir._"

Snape glared at him. "You will give me an explanation for your behavior, or you will be out of this course. I will not put up with it."

Harry was silent for a bit, studying him, debating the merits of ticking him off further with a flippant response. As there were no longer witnesses to discourage some unpleasant curse, he decided against it. "I've been very tired lately," he confessed sullenly. "I'm sleeping a lot."

Snape looked at him sharply. "Are you having dreams?" he demanded.

Harry merely shifted uncomfortably, but apparently that was enough of an answer.

"And I don't suppose you've been occluding your mind? Really, Potter. After what happened to Black, I would think you'd have learned your lesson about leaving your mind open."

Harry glared at him, furious that he had brought up Sirius. "These dreams are not from Voldemort," he stated with certainty.

Snape flinched. "Potter, do not say—"

"Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort!" he exclaimed, louder each time, and rather relishing the winces on Snape's part. "He's possessed me, I think we should be on a first name basis!"

There was a moment then where the expression on Snape's face gave him cause to worry about what he was about to do to him. But it passed, and then the anger was restricted to his eyes. He didn't even address Harry's outburst. Instead he declared, "We shall begin Occlumency again. You will meet me here Monday night at 6."

Harry felt a sudden stab of panic as things spun out of his control. "Wait, what? I thought you refused to teach me that anymore." And surely his behavior today should have convinced Snape that he'd made the right decision there.

"I did. But Professor Dumbledore has _requested_ that we begin again. You will keep away from my pensieve. You will show much more respect than you have demonstrated today. And you will follow my instruction without question. Do we understand each other?"

"What if I don't?" he dared to ask.

Snape's gaze caught his. "Then I've no doubt that you will soon be sending your friends after your godfather, if you manage to avoid following his fate yourself."

Harry stared at him silently, anger boiling. But at the same time he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach, because though it had been callously stated it was true. While he seriously doubted that these particular dreams were Voldemort's doing, he had no doubt that he would try to get into his mind again at some point. And if Harry couldn't prevent it, someone else could die.

And if Dumbledore had ordered this, then he clearly still did not want to be teaching Harry himself. That left him with only one option.

So through his anger and his sense of doom, Harry managed to say, "I'll be here."

oOo

to be continued

Thanks to my reviewers! Please keep them coming!


	4. Weakness

Surreality

By Perse

Chapter 4

oOo

_Harry stood, his breathing unsteady, trying to fight the cold, panicked feeling in his stomach._

_Sixteen was supposed to be a big birthday, and his parents had made sure that it would be. The house was packed with all of his school friends, a few teachers, and the entire Weasley family. They had spent hours outside on the back lawn, playing games and having a grand time. _

_Which was why he couldn't explain the sudden feelings that had come over him._

_It was when most had left and only his closest friends remained that they had retreated inside. Harry had been sitting in the living room, watching Ron and Hermione argue and Sirius and Remus acting as if they were up to something he would probably regret. He had glimpsed his parents watching him proudly from the doorway. And, sitting back and observing everyone else, Harry had been hit with a sudden wash of frightening emotion. From out of the blue it had occurred to him that he would be lost if anything ever happened to any of them. From that he had spiraled quickly to inexplicable fear and a sense of doom._

_He had slipped out onto the back porch when the fake smiles became to difficult to maintain. That was where he was now, watching the stars appear in the darkening sky._

_He heard the door open behind him. He turned briefly, catching grey eyes for a moment before he turned back the sky. He listened as Sirius hesitated, then slid the door closed before approaching. He sat down in the nearby chair, holding the silence for a moment more, probably waiting for Harry to talk. Finally he asked, "You okay?"_

"_Yeah, just…morbid thoughts. I don't know where they came from. I'll be fine."_

"_Morbid?" Sirius asked with a raised eyebrow. After a moment he added softly, "You can tell me anything, you know."_

"_I know," Harry answered in kind. What would he ever do without Sirius, the one person he could tell anything? Even things he couldn't talk about with his parents…With a hard swallow, he finally confessed, "I was just wondering what I would do without you…all of you. If anything ever happened." He wasn't explaining well. He wasn't sure he could, for he couldn't even explain it to himself._

"_Hey…" Sirius stood, coming to his side, seeming surprised by the admission. He reached to stroke Harry's hair. "There's no need for you to be worrying about something like that. We're not going anywhere."_

"_Yeah, I know that," Harry tried to laugh it off. But the laugh shook, and the grim look quickly crept back onto his face._

_With a sigh, Sirius pulled him close. Harry knew intellectually that a 16-year-old shouldn't need to be cuddled like a child. But the moment of emptiness had shaken him so much that he tossed that thought aside. He pressed his face into Sirius' neck, twisting his head until he found a position where the glasses didn't dig in painfully._

_Sirius stroked his back gently and simply stood in silence, letting Harry take a few moments of needed comfort._

_What seemed a very short time later, the door slid open again._

"_Padfoot, you can't monopolize the Birthday boy. It's not fair to the rest of us."_

_Sniffling slightly, Harry pulled away from Sirius and turned to his father. He adjusted his glasses and tried to give James a smile._

_It felt tremulous, and it must have looked it as well. For James came fully out onto the balcony and closed the door, concerned look dawning on his features. "Harry, what's wrong?"_

"_Nothing…" Contrary to his answer, he pulled away from Sirius and latched onto his father. With his face in the man's chest he said, "You won't go anywhere, will you Dad? You'll always be here, right?"_

_James was obviously confused, but he wrapped his arms around his son. "Where else would I be, hmm? Where is this coming from?"_

"_I don't know," Harry said softly. He didn't move, soaking in the contact. The comfort from Sirius and now his Dad was slowly warming that cold feeling, and he felt less panicked. It was as if feeling that they were solid reminded him that they were here._

_When he felt strong enough he pulled away. They were both looking at him with concern, but the real smile he gave them seemed to soothe it a bit. "I'm okay," he insisted. "Let's go back inside. I believe there were still presents…"_

_Laughing, they turned back to the door. Sirius draped an arm around his shoulders and led him back inside. Once there he released him, and James took his place to lead him over to where Lily was standing. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, hugging him and giving him a quick kiss on the forehead._

_He complained perfunctorily and shortly squirmed out of her grasp, for his friends were watching. But he had appreciated the affection more than anything, and he was finally feeling warm and safe again._

oOo

"Harry," an insistent voice called.

Harry shifted away from the hand that was shaking him. He was sick of being woken in this manner, especially where he was being pulled away from a place he'd rather be. "Go 'way, Ron," he mumbled.

"Good grief, you are out of it. I am not Ron, and I think I resent the comparison."

Harry squinted his eyes open, realizing that it was Hermione who had woken him. Ron was nearby, however, and he took offense. As they bickered, Harry looked lazily around the common room and then closed his eyes again.

In the dream, Sirius and then his parents had soothed the ache away. But as soon as he had woken, it had come crashing back. If he could just go back to the dream…it wouldn't hurt so much…

"Harry!" Hermione was right in his face this time. He gave her as much of a glare as he could muster when half-asleep. She glared right back. "You have to meet Professor Snape. You're going to be late."

oOo

"You're late, Potter."

Harry, breathing hard from the run to the dungeons, fumbled for an excuse. "I was…studying."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "I did not ask for an excuse. There was no reason to supply a lie."

True, which made Harry wonder why he'd bothered. He figured it out easily enough—he had a feeling that Snape would go mental if he knew what he'd actually been doing. "Sorry," he mumbled, shutting the office door and reluctantly coming further inside.

"Don't bother sitting," Snape intoned as he stood and came around the desk. "The sooner we get started the sooner we will be done."

"I couldn't agree more, sir," Harry said with a smirk.

Snape gave him a bored look, then brought his wand up quickly. "_Legilimens!_"

He was caught off guard, as he always seemed to be with Snape. Harry really hated this feeling. The Professor and the office swam, leaving Harry on a whirlwind ride through his memories.

He was six, watching from a corner as his aunt and uncle fawned over Dudley while he opened his roomful of birthday presents…

He and Ron were coming out of Hagrid's hut. They made their way into the Dark Forest, following a little line of spiders…

He was looking through the banister on the stairwell of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Hermione and the four youngest Weasleys stood nearby. They were watching Snape leave…

He was in the Department of Mysteries. Sirius was dueling with Bellatrix as Harry tried to get Neville to the stairs. Sirius jumped up onto the dais…

NO! He slammed the mental door on that memory, unwilling to see it himself, let alone allow Snape to view it. He let his mind rush onto something more pleasant instead.

Sirius draped an arm around his shoulders and led him back inside. Once there he released him, and James took his place to lead him over to where Lily was standing. She draped her arms around his shoulders, hugging him and giving him a quick kiss on the head…

He was abruptly pulled out of the scene. He found himself on his hands and knees on Snape's floor. He hadn't done anything to cut it off, hadn't even wanted it to stop, really. He glanced up in confusion. "Why did you stop?" he asked dumbly.

Snape was looking at him oddly. "You did not conjure that last scene as a defense?"

Harry, still quite out of sorts, managed a confused, "Huh?"

Snape sighed in annoyance. "The scene with your parents and Black. I know it was not a memory. Did you not imagine it to throw me off?"

"No." Belatedly, he realized that he should have said yes. Apparently it was a good defense; Snape had almost seemed impressed for a second. But it was too late now. As he slowly climbed to his feet he confessed, "It was a memory, just not of reality."

He made his way back to the chair. Snape perched on the edge of his desk, watching him intently. "Explain," he ordered.

Harry sighed. He didn't want to share the dreams with Snape. He hadn't even described them to Ron or Hermione. They were personal, and they were _his_. They were like a gift, like the universe had finally decided to give him something to help compensate for his losses.

But Snape was looking at him so severely that he expected the man would decide the situation warranted veritaserum if he refused to talk. So he said reluctantly, "It was a dream. One of the dreams I've been having lately."

"Are they all similar to that?"

Harry nodded.

"That was very vivid. It seemed real."

Harry hesitated a moment before saying honestly, "They all do."

Snape stood from the desk and then bent to grasp the arms of Harry's chair. Harry instinctively pressed against the back of the chair as Snape hissed, "Mr. Potter, you should have sought assistance as soon as this began to happen."

"Why? They're just dreams," he managed to stammer.

"I highly doubt that they are 'just dreams,'" Snape said mockingly. He released the chair and paced back to the desk. "You must block them out."

Harry stared at his back. He knew Snape was upset, but he still didn't see the urgency. He mumbled quietly, "But I rather like them."

Snape heard. Harry tensed as his teacher spun back to him. "Yes, I expect that is the point. As long as you _want_ these dreams, you will not be able to block them!"

Harry felt the vague panic setting in again at the thought of losing this connection to his parents and Sirius. Defiantly he snapped, "Then we have a problem, Professor. Because I don't see myself ever _not_ wanting these dreams."

Snape moved closer again, anger flashing in dark eyes along with some emotion Harry couldn't quite identify. "Even if they are evidence that the Dark Lord is inside your head, dictating your thoughts?"

How could Snape still think they might be Voldemort's doing, now that he knew what they were about? Aloud he said, "I don't understand how they could be. I mean, why would he do that? Why would he want to make me happy?"

"Are you happy, Potter? Because at the moment, you seem rather upset."

"_You_ are upsetting me!" Harry snapped, standing.

Snape scowled. "So when you are not with me, you're happy? You are glad to be here and spend time with your friends? You don't want to sleep all the time?"

Harry froze. Then he shrugged and said stubbornly, "I meant in the dreams. I'm happy in the dreams."

"And miserable in the real world. You prefer them to reality, don't you? But your head must be here if you are ever to have a chance of defeating him."

Harry drew in a shaky breath, then shook his head in denial. "No. It's not true, they're not from him!"

"Potter, do stop flaunting your stupidity. You must see this for what it is! The Dark Lord has identified what he perceives to be your greatest weakness, and he is exploiting it."

"And what, pray tell, is my greatest weakness?" Harry spat, feeling a surge of anger. He liked that; it was familiar, and he latched onto it.

"I did not say that it _was_ your greatest weakness, Potter. It is what _he_ believes to be your weakness. And it is your love and need for others."

"I learned a long time ago not to need anyone." He knew even as he said it that it wasn't exactly true. But it was out, and he didn't take it back. He met Snape's icy stare and held it with one of his own.

Snape sneered. "Fine. But I dare say there are still some you care for. Even they cannot compare to the dreams, can they? And no one in the dreams is available to you in reality."

"Remus is there, sometimes," Harry muttered weakly, thinking only that he wanted to get out of here.

"But even he is not physically here, now. The Dark Lord has given you a more enticing choice to make you hate this reality."

"He really didn't need to do anything else to accomplish that," Harry stated honestly. When Snape crossed his arms and heaved a long-suffering sigh, Harry spoke again before he could. "It still doesn't make sense. Why would he care how much I avoid life here? It's not as if I'm likely to fall asleep in the middle of our eventual fight."

"Because you will not be learning the tools you need to defeat him," Snape spelled out slowly, as though he were stupid.

Harry scowled, still unwilling to accept it. "Maybe, but I've already proved I can handle myself. Actually, if you think about it, the more upset I am about reality the more likely I'll be to actually accomplish an Unforgivable next time."

"It is also possible that there is another, deeper purpose behind them." Snape stooped slightly so he could look Harry directly in the eye. The intensity was unnerving; Harry had to fight not to take a step back. "This is not up for debate. You must learn to occlude your mind; you _must_ block them out."

oOo

He actually did try to occlude his mind that night, if only because his mind was too occupied to sleep. But apparently he didn't manage it well, for he still had dreams.

He wasn't all that sorry about that.

The next day in Potions, Harry managed to stay awake...mostly out of a desire to prove Snape wrong. The Potions Master kept studying him from across the room, and Harry kept throwing glares whenever he wasn't looking. By the end of class, though he had been awake, he had essentially accomplished nothing.

And he was sleepy.

He stifled a yawn as he gathered his books. He seemed to be moving more slowly than normal. Ron and Hermione waited for him, and by the time the three of them turned towards the door everyone else had left.

They started out, but didn't get far before a sharp voice stopped them. "Granger, Weasley!" Snape called impatiently.

Ron flinched involuntarily. Hermione gulped, but turned towards him bravely.

"A word, if I may?" Snape said, gesturing them into his office.

Hermione raised her eyebrows, but went. Ron stared at him for a moment, looked to Harry, then slowly moved to comply. Snape moved from the door into the office and they followed, Ron shutting it only partially behind him.

Harry stared after him. Then, shameless at this point when it came to Snape, he moved closer to the door to eavesdrop.

"How much do you know about what is going on with Potter?" Snape's voice asked gruffly.

"Nothing is going on. Harry's doing pretty well considering everything," Ron said testily. Harry smiled at the defensiveness.

His smile faded as Hermione spoke up. "He's been very tired. He sleeps all the time and its hard to wake him. He insists he isn't sick," she said in a way that made it seem a question.

"I suppose that depends on your definition of 'sick.' He is allowing, even welcoming the Dark Lord to prey upon him."

Harry's eyes widened at what seemed to him a very overdramatic take on things. For he knew how his friends would take that.

Ron managed a shocked, "Huh?"

Hermione was a bit more vocal, even if her voice shook a bit. "I don't understand, sir. How exactly is he allowing that?"

"He really has told you nothing. You know that his dreams have, in the past, allowed the Dark Lord to access his mind and vice versa. He has been having dreams which are almost certainly an indication that this is happening again, but he has no desire to stop them."

"If that were really happening he would want to stop them…sir," Ron added as an afterthought, probably due to a look he'd received.

"His reasons are not for me to speculate, Mr. Weasley. However, stopping this from happening does fall under my domain. I believe I may need assistance from the two of you for this."

Harry's brow furrowed as he wondered why Snape hadn't just spelled everything out for him. It was no one's business but his own, but it surprised him that Snape would share that sentiment. He shortly pushed those musings aside, however, as he wondered what Snape expected his friends to do.

"It is important that he stays grounded in reality. He needs to be kept awake during the day, and preferably occupied. Do you think you can handle this?"

"We can try."

"What about at night?" Hermione asked.

"That will be my concern. I simply require that you do your part to get him into a normal sleeping routine, which does _not_ include numerous naps during the day. Can you do this or not?"

Harry backed away, sensing that the conversation was nearly over and knowing that at least Hermione would consent. Ron would as well, if he thought it would help. That meant he would have one of them on him during all daylight hours. He rolled his eyes slightly as he went to wait near the door.

Sure enough, his friends shortly emerged from the office and headed towards him.

Hermione waited until they were down the hall before turning to him. "Did you hear all of that?" she accused.

They knew him too well. Harry nodded. "You know, if I didn't know better, I'd almost think he cared about my welfare," he said with a healthy amount of sarcasm.

Hermione shook her head. "Harry, you need to give him a chance. Please…for all our sakes."

"I would if he would," Harry responded crossly. "But I won't be holding my breath for that."

oOo

to be continued


	5. Distraction

Surreality

By Perse

Chapter 5

oOo

_Harry followed Sirius down the hallway and into the ward, where the Healer met them and asked them to wait a moment. As they stood at the end of a long run of curtained-off beds, Harry fidgeted nervously. He raised a hand to his mouth, chewing on a long and ragged thumbnail—a habit he had broken when he was eight._

_Sirius turned to him. With a soft, "Harry," he gently grasped his hand and pulled it down, holding it a bit longer than necessary. "It's all right. He's going to be fine."_

"_He's right," a feminine voice said from behind Sirius. His godfather moved behind him, giving him a little push towards his mother._

"_Your father's going to be fine," she said, pulling him into an embrace._

_He stood stiffly in her arms, unable to relax, and she released him fairly quickly. "I promise, Harry. Everything will be fine." She cupped his face gently for a moment. Then, "I need to speak with the Healer. You go on down and see him, okay?"_

_Harry nodded as if in a daze, barely catching the concerned look she and Sirius exchanged over his head. Then Sirius squeezed Harry's shoulders once before moving to his side and steering him down the ward._

_They made their way to the opposite end of the hallway, all the way to the next-to-last curtain. There, Sirius pulled the hanging curtains open a bit so they could see the bed._

_James Potter lay propped up on a couple of pillows. The most prominent bruises stood out on his face and neck, though it was almost certain there were others out of sight. His left arm was in a sling. There were lines of pain around his eyes._

_Despite all of this, his face lit up when he saw them._

_Harry swallowed hard, trying to take it all in. While he didn't know exactly what had happened, he knew it had happened in the course of his Dad's work for the Ministry. He would probably hear it in the form of gossip at school, but part of him wasn't sure he wanted to know. While everyone was playing it down for his benefit, he got the impression that it had been a rather serious incident._

_Sirius tried to lighten the mood. "Hey, Jamie. You really gotta learn to watch where you're going, mate."_

_James attempted an eye roll, but it ended in a grimace. Harry stood rooted in the opening, ignoring the slight pressure Sirius was applying on his back to prod him forward. _

_But James held out his good arm, beckoning him. With a slight whimper that he would deny later, he rushed into his father's embrace._

_He was careful, excruciatingly gentle, afraid of causing more damage to injuries he couldn't see. But James didn't seem to share that concern, squeezing him tightly and close._

_Finally Harry melted into the embrace, clinging as tightly as he was being held. "You promised you weren't going anywhere," he said as loudly as he could, which was barely audible._

"_And I'm not," James whispered fiercely. "I love you, son. I will always be with you."_

oOo

This time, Harry woke on his own. He noted absently that it was still dark, though his thoughts for the most part remained with the dream.

'_Always' was awfully short, Dad,_ he thought as he rolled over and buried his face in the pillow, trying to push back the emotional tidal wave.

He lay perfectly still, reaching for the skills Snape had taught him to clear his mind. Eventually the death grip he had on the corner of his pillowcase relaxed. He was just about to drift back to sleep when he was rudely brought back to reality by someone bouncing onto his bed.

"Harry? Get up. We're going to get practice in before breakfast!"

With a scowl, Harry twisted to peer up at Ron. "Practice?" he croaked dumbly.

"Quidditch. You know…brooms, quaffle, a snitch? Come on, get up!"

Harry glared. Ron seemed entirely too chipper for this early in the morning. And this time he didn't leave Harry the opportunity to slip back into dreamland. He physically hauled him into a sitting position, then sat down behind him so he couldn't lie back down.

"Who died and made you Oliver Wood?" Harry grumbled, leaning back and forcing Ron to support all of his weight as a form of protest.

Ron took it in stride, ignoring the comment and prodding a finger into his ribs until he sat up. Harry did, then when the poking stopped he leaned back again. This game went on for a few minutes until Harry was actually smiling and almost completely awake. Finally he said, "I may not even be on the team, you know. McGonagall hasn't ruled on that yet."

"Oh, you know she'll let you. She has to; you're the best we've got!"

Harry grunted noncommittally, but shifted to face his friend. He knew perfectly well that this was an attempt to follow Snape's instructions and keep him occupied. Somehow, he didn't mind as much as he'd thought he would.

"Come on. It'll be fun. How long has it been since you flew?"

"A very long while," Harry confessed ruefully. And really, it would feel nice to be in the air again. He cut his eyes at Ron, who was looking at him with his best cajoling look. Finally, with an exaggerated sigh, Harry gave in. "All right. Let's go."

And so, Wednesday morning found Harry striding out onto the Quidditch field with Ron at his side and his broom in his hand. They didn't have an actual practice scheduled, but no one else was up this early to fight them for the field.

Ron was in quite the take-charge mode. He'd somehow managed to get everyone else out of bed, as well. Kirke and Sloper looked half-asleep, and Harry rather feared they might be more of a threat to the other players than the Bludgers. Katie Bell was mumbling something about Ron and a Wood-clone. Ginny was actually the most attentive, possibly because Harry's reinstatement as Seeker would leave her without a spot. Ron had told her to play Chaser for this practice. That only left them short one Chaser.

Hermione had tagged along, and Ron was attempting to convince her to give it a go. She just snorted in disbelief and indicated the books she had brought along to occupy her time.

As they walked onto the field, Hermione kept casting odd glances Harry's way. After a while, Harry figured out that she must be watching his reaction to Ron's behavior. She probably thought that he would expect the Captain position, and thus he should be in charge.

Honestly, he hadn't thought about it much. At the beginning of last year, he might have had hopes for it after Angelina's graduation. But now…it didn't seem to matter so much. And he hadn't even been on the team for most of last year; surely that would take him out of the running, no matter how important he might have been in the past.

Ron had gained a lot of confidence after that last game, and it was really evident now. So much so that Harry was really beginning to consider that he should be Captain. Or perhaps it would go to Katie as the senior member of the team. Harry didn't really care one way or another…in fact, he really didn't want it.

He gave Hermione a shrug and a smile. She gave him a tentative smile in return. Then she went to climb into the stands with her books clutched in her arms as the rest of them mounted their brooms and got into position.

Ron released the balls. Harry watched from his higher position as the five of them coordinated a game strategy below.

Ginny turned out to be rather good in the Chaser position. She and Katie worked well together. And Ron definitely had the leader-thing down. Harry wondered briefly if it had something to do with the absence of any older Weasleys at Hogwarts this year. Whatever it was, Harry found this side of his friend intriguing.

This felt almost normal. He breathed in the fresh air and enjoyed the feel of the broom as the only thing holding him up. He truly loved flying, like nothing else he had found in his life.

Unfortunately, this lacked the tension and excitement of a real game, or even a real practice. He hadn't sighted the snitch once, and his mind was drifting. He'd never really let himself think about it before, but now he dwelled on the idea of his father sitting in those stands on a game day.

Would James Potter be proud of his Seeker son? Harry liked to think so. He let a small smile grace his lips as he shifted his weight on the broom until he was almost lying down. He relaxed, keeping a lazy eye out for the snitch but tuning out the activity of his teammates. His attention kept drifting back to the stands. If he closed his eyes he could imagine his father standing there, his mother on one side and Sirius and Remus on the other, cheering him on…

"Harry!" he abruptly heard Hermione scream.

It jolted him awake, and there was a moment in which he realized he'd fallen asleep. But it was too late.

He had a view of the ground rushing up to meet him. Then he saw nothing.

oOo

to be continued


	6. Consequences

Surreality

By Perse

Chapter 6

oOo

"_Nasty fall you took, Mr. Potter. I know Quidditch is a rough game, but you really must be more careful."_

_He squinted, trying to identify the speaker. She seemed to realize the problem and handed him his glasses. Once they were on, he recognized Madame Pomfrey._

_She raised an eyebrow. "You broke a couple of ribs and took quite a hit to the head. You'll be staying with me for the night, so you may as well get comfortable."_

_She strode off to the other end of the wing, where a couple of other beds were occupied. Harry stared after her, then eased himself back onto the pillow with a painful sigh. He wondered how long he'd been out, for it was already getting dark outside._

_He shivered involuntarily. One might think he'd be used to the hospital wing, what with the roughness inherent in Quidditch. But he still hated the isolation of a curtained-off bed in a sterile room. When he'd been little, he'd had two parents, a godfather, and an 'uncle' all hovering over him. He supposed he'd been rather spoiled by that. Now, he hated being alone when he was sick or hurt. _

_Swallowing his emotions, he tried to get comfortable. It wasn't possible. He was cold and he seemed to ache everywhere. Every time he shifted, pain flared somewhere else and he woke completely._

_This went on for an appalling amount of time. He kept expecting Madame Pomfrey to come back and perhaps offer him a potion to help him rest, but she didn't. _

_Finally, he heard footsteps approaching. He looked expectantly towards the curtain, but he was quite shocked by what he shortly spotted._

"_Sirius?" he said in surprise._

_Sirius put a finger to his lips, then moved closer and sat on the edge of the bed to talk to him in a quiet tone. "McGonagall called your Mum and Dad. Lily wanted to come out here herself, but we talked her out of it."_

_Embarrassing as it would have been to have his Mum here fussing over him, he almost wished for it. He hurt and he was lonely._

_As if reading his thoughts, Sirius patted his head and said seriously, "We'd never leave you alone." After a moment to let that sink in he continued, "We convinced her that I would be the better choice, since I'm able to get in and out without anyone noticing."_

"_You don't think anyone will notice you?" Harry asked dubiously._

"_I don't think anyone will much mind a stray dog."_

_Harry smiled. "Ah, so I'm going to have a big living teddy bear?"_

"_I am _not _a teddy bear," Sirius growled, reaching to tickle his side. He was gentle, mindful of the injuries, but as Harry wriggled away he jarred his ribs and winced through his giggles. Sirius relented immediately._

"_I thought you were here to make me feel _better_," Harry complained, grinning to let his godfather know he was teasing._

_Sirius smiled slightly, but asked seriously, "Are you hurting?"_

"_Yeah," he confessed. "But it's not your fault. I've been hurting since I woke up."_

"_Hang on a minute, I'll be right back." With that Sirius stood and slunk around the curtain, out of Harry's sight. He returned a few minutes later with a vial in his hand._

_Harry eyed it warily. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?"_

"_It's a simple painkiller. Trust me. I spent plenty of time here between James and his Quidditch injuries and Remus' monthly trips; I know what Poppy gives for pain."_

_Harry accepted the vial, downing the foul-tasting stuff in one gulp and handing it back. Sirius laughed at the grimace on his face, then reached to arrange his pillows and shift him back to a prone position. "You need to get some sleep."_

"_I've been sleeping all afternoon," Harry complained, even as he stifled a yawn._

"_You've been unconscious all afternoon. There's a difference," Sirius corrected. He carefully pulled Harry's glasses off and sat them on the bedside table. Then he leaned down and planted a gentle kiss on Harry's forehead._

_With that he slipped off the bed and moved a couple of feet away. After checking to make sure that no one was coming, he shut his eyes and shortly transformed himself._

_Harry wished for a moment that he had his glasses back. Watching Sirius' transformations had intrigued him since he was a toddler._

_A moment later, a big black dog padded to the bedside and with one leap brought himself up onto the mattress._

_Padfoot gingerly arranged himself alongside Harry, avoiding bandages. He nuzzled Harry's neck, and Harry wrapped an arm around the furry, warm body._

"_Just like a big teddy bear…" he said with a sleepy smile._

_He got a lick in his ear in return._

oOo

Harry woke clutching for something warm and fuzzy. It wasn't there. It took him a few moments to realize that it never had been.

With that realization came the now familiar sinking feeling in his stomach and the setting-in of the ache in his heart.

He shut his eyes against an unwelcome pressure. He would not cry. That would only make him feel worse—especially since his head already ached.

He sat up with a slight groan and groped for his glasses, discovering that he really was in the hospital wing.

He heard voices near his closed curtains. After a moment he identified them—Dumbledore and Snape. Wondering if he was developing a nasty eavesdropping habit, Harry nevertheless grew still and very quiet as he listened closely.

"He actually fell asleep in midair on his broom? We are certain he did not pass out?"

"Madame Pomfrey says there is nothing physically wrong with him, other than the injuries he received in the fall," Dumbledore responded.

A sigh. "This situation may be even more dire than I feared. I would not have thought he was to the point of falling asleep involuntarily."

"I thought he fell asleep in your class?" Dumbledore put in, a hint of a smile in his voice.

"I doubt he had much desire to stay awake there," Snape put in snidely. "But while flying…"

"Yes, this has progressed into a rather disturbing problem. The question is how best to help him?"

"I've tried to teach him. I cannot teach what he does not want to learn."

Harry's brow furrowed. It wasn't that he did not want to learn—it was that Snape's methods left much to be desired.

Dumbledore responded, "Let's forget the Occlumency for a moment. In fact, let's put aside magic entirely. I think this solution may be much simpler."

"And what might that be?"

"He needs in reality what he is receiving in these dreams. He needs to feel loved, Severus."

Harry was rather put out by this. After all, he was sixteen. A 16-year-old did not need to be cuddled and comforted like a child.

But then, he had never _been_ cuddled as a child. He shifted uncomfortably, thinking about the dreams. After a moment, he was forced to admit to himself that perhaps that was exactly what he did want.

Dumbledore's insight was truly eerie at times.

But, as he wanted this from dead people, he didn't see how Dumbledore could solve the problem.

"Ah. So…" Snape sounded decidedly uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was taking. "You should speak to Granger and Weasley, then."

"I will. But I think they are already doing their best. What Harry needs is a familial, parental sort of love. The dreams focus on adults, do they not?"

"That seems to be the case. So…what? He has mentioned Lupin. Perhaps you should bring him out here. Or the Weasleys. Molly is not needed on other pressing Order business."

"Both good suggestions, perhaps worth exploring. But I have another, more convenient one. It is you he must learn to trust, Severus. It is you who must teach him. It is you he needs to feel comfortable with."

It took Harry a moment to catch Dumbledore's meaning. Then he nearly fell off the bed in shock. The old wizard must have finally lost it. He wanted him to bond with _Snape_!

Judging by Snape's next words and the shocked dead silence that preceded them, his reaction was similar. "I am not the 'cuddly' type, Albus. Especially not with Potter." Harry could hear the sneer in his voice. "And even if I were thus inclined, he despises me."

Hadn't they been down this road before, hadn't Dumbledore learned this lesson? Snape could not even tolerate him, let alone _care_ for him. Harry tried to put 'Snape' and 'loving' together in his head. It did not compute. In fact, it made him want to laugh.

"Severus," he heard Dumbledore sigh. After a few moments of silence he spoke again. "You have taught him to occlude his mind before sleep, yes?"

"Of course. But he has yet to do it. And he won't now—he has no desire to."

"I think he may now. That fall should convince him that there is some danger, especially with Mr. Weasley's involvement. Perhaps he simply needs someone with him—immediate help with the occlusion as he goes to bed."

Harry was frowning, wondering what Ron had to do with anything, so he didn't catch the unspoken suggestion as quickly as Snape did. There was a beat of silence before the Potions Master said with a healthy dose of cynicism, "Albus, what are you suggesting? I do hope you aren't planning to move me into Gryffindor tower."

"No, no. But some move is perhaps in order. You have an extra room, do you not?"

Harry nearly choked.

Snape didn't answer right away, prompting Harry to lean closer, desperate to hear the response. Unfortunately he leaned a bit too far, and found too late that he did not have his sense of balance back yet. This time, he actually did fall off the bed.

He hit the floor with a thud and a gasp. It hurt far more than he might have expected. A second later the curtains were open and someone had knelt beside him.

"Potter, you are a disaster waiting to happen." Despite the words, Snape's touch wasn't rough as he gathered Harry in his arms. He lifted him back to the bed as if he were a small child rather than a gangling teenager.

Harry stared at him, befuddled and wondering if perhaps he were having some twisted dream now.

After placing him on the mattress, Snape promptly moved back. He stood in the corner, arms folded across his chest, looking as menacing as ever.

Dumbledore came to Harry's side as Madame Pomfrey bustled over. "Bad dream, Mr. Potter?" she asked, fussing with his covers and checking a bandage on his lower leg.

Harry felt the close scrutiny of both the men and flushed, looking down. "No."

"_Good_ dream, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked acerbically.

Harry whipped his head up and around to look at him. The movement prompted a stab of pain that made him moan slightly as he shut his eyes, bringing a hand to his head.

"Yes, you whacked your head pretty good, to say nothing of your leg and ribs," Pomfrey informed him, grasping his hand and pulling it away. "You'll be my guest for the rest of the day and night."

And somehow, despite the pain, he thought that he would definitely prefer to be her guest than Snape's. Dimly, he realized that she was shooing both men away. He didn't look up to see Snape's expression. He did, however, look up when Dumbledore addressed him. "Harry? We will need to speak later."

He resisted the urge to simply nod and managed a quiet, contrite, "Yes, sir."

Dumbledore left slowly. Madame Pomfrey continued to fuss over him, prompting him to lay back down as she checked bandages. Unfortunately for her, she had just gotten him settled when a red head poked around the curtain.

"Ron!" Harry exclaimed, pushing himself upright with a grimace. "Are you okay?" he questioned, taking in the crutches and bruises his friend was sporting.

"I broke your fall…sort of," he confessed with a glance at his ankle. "But it's not serious. I'll be off of these things by tomorrow."

"Try the next day, Mr. Weasley," Pomfrey warned. "Longer, if you don't get back to your tower and rest." She turned from Ron, who had his mouth open in protest, to address Harry. "You'd have hit a lot harder if Mr. Weasley hadn't reacted so quickly. Though really, I wish he'd used his wand instead of placing his body between you and the ground." Harry looked to his friend, eyes widening as he realized what had happened. Ron flushed under the scrutiny and looked down. "You may stay for a moment, Mr. Weasley, but Mr. Potter needs his rest as well." With pointed looks at both of them, the Medi-Witch left them alone.

Ron hobbled closer and hitched up to sit on the edge of Harry's bed. "She's overreacting, mate. I'm fine."

"Yeah, sure," Harry managed softly, his attention caught up in the dark bruise on Ron's left cheek. His friend was hurt because of him.

"I heard Hermione yell and turned in time to see you fall. I didn't have time to fish out my wand," Ron said in explanation.

"I fell asleep," Harry said dumbly, still finding it—and the consequences—difficult to grasp.

"And almost broke your neck," Ron said jokingly.

Harry, however, couldn't joke about this. "Both out necks," he said softly. "Both of us."

oOo

Harry spent the rest of the day in that bed, staring at the ceiling. He couldn't seem to sleep. Every time he started to drift he jerked awake, remembering that that was what had put him here.

And yet, part of him desperately wished for his dream-world. Especially when reality got most unpleasant again, and Snape came stalking in.

Harry froze, then looked beyond him in desperate hope of seeing Dumbledore appear as well. If he had to have this conversation, he certainly wanted the older wizard there.

But apparently it was just him and Snape. He watched the Potions Master apprehensively as he approached.

He reached for the water glass on the bedside table, needing something to do other than stare at Snape. He occupied himself with taking long sips, trying to ignore the face that Snape was now looming over him, staring at him darkly.

Finally he spoke, "Do you understand what happened today, Potter?"

"Yes," Harry said softly.

Snape studied him intently. "You have let this go much too far. Do you realize that you could have killed Mr. Weasley today? Do you even care anymore?"

"Of course I do!" Harry exclaimed, a slightly desperate tone in his voice. The glass in his hand began to tremble along with his hands.

Snape noticed and took it from him, placing it back on the table. Harry didn't protest. With an unreadable expression the older man said, "I will begin working with you again tomorrow. For now, I want you to take this."

Harry looked uneasily at the vial he had produced.

"For Merlin's sake Potter, I am not trying to poison you. It is just Dreamless Sleep."

Harry almost balked. He didn't really want to have a dreamless sleep. He wanted a refuge from all of this; he wanted his comfort.

But…what if they were right? He had put Ron at risk today, not to mention everyone else. The pain he still felt told him that there was definitely some risk here, no matter how much he didn't want to believe it. What if Snape was right?

He didn't want to think about it. But that was all right, because he didn't have the strength to think about it right now. His mind was fuzzy. And he hurt—he wanted to rest. So he finally nodded his ascent, and accepted the vial.

oOo

to be continued


	7. Sleeping Arrangements

Surreality

By Perse

Chapter 7

oOo

Harry was up the next day, limping a bit and moving slowly as he made his way to classes. He was also rather cranky, not only from the pain, but from the peaceful, dream-free sleep of the night before.

It had depressed him to an almost disturbing point. He felt as if his parents were being taken from him—and he was losing Sirius all over again. But he also felt guilty about Ron, and terrified that Snape and Dumbledore might be right about his dreams.

He felt like crying. To compensate, he was snapping at anyone who got too close to him, friend or foe.

It seemed Draco had some kind of inbuilt radar to know when Harry was already miserable, so he could do his best to make it worse. Harry was actually rather proud of himself when he didn't curse Malfoy into oblivion. And really, he didn't see what all the fuss was about. His hair would go back to normal when the curse wore off. Probably sometime next week.

That, at least, made him smile for a few minutes. Unfortunately McGonagall was nearby, and he had shortly been assigned detention for a week.

With Snape.

Needless to say, this severely dampened the good mood brought on by the shock of pink hair amongst the blonde.

Though honestly, he didn't know quite what to make of Snape lately. Usually, all he could read from the spy was intense dislike. It had been different since the school year started. There was still dislike, certainly, but Snape seemed much more attentive to him. It was almost like…concern.

That confused him greatly. And the day only got worse. He couldn't even look at Ron without feeling worse, so he was avoiding him as much as he could. This seemed to be hurting Ron more than the actual injuries were. When Harry tried to sit by himself at lunch, Hermione confronted him. He yelled at her, and ended up storming out of the dining hall without eating a bite.

Finally, despite knowing that it was a bad idea, he cut Potions class. He simply couldn't face Snape right then…especially considering that Draco would be there. And he had had time to set up some revenge.

That was his justification, at least, as he stole out of the castle. It was a pretty day, and he found himself heading towards Hagrid's hut. The half-giant was heading off with a class of 3rd years, so Harry stayed behind and settled himself into the grass near the hut.

He watched the Dark Forest for a moment before lying back and turning his attention to the sky. His head hurt and he just wanted to rest for a bit. As the clouds drifted lazily by, he soon drifted off into dreamland.

oOo

_Harry shook his head in dismay as he made his way towards the two figures wrapped in each others' arms on the lawn. Honestly, he couldn't leave the two of them alone for a moment._

_Announcing his presence with a fake cough, Harry didn't bother to wait for them to break apart before he dropped to the grass and said, "You know, most teenagers have normal parents who can either barely stand each other or don't have time for each other. At the very least, they keep their hands off each other in the presence of their kids." With that he wormed his way between them, each of them shifting a bit so he fit nicely. "What did I do to deserve you two?" he teased._

_James grabbed him in a headlock. "Oh, just admit it. You love us. You adore us! You'd be absolutely lost without us."_

_Harry squirmed in the grip, prompting James to muss his hair. "Da-ad! Like it wasn't bad enough on its own!" he whined in reference to the hair. But he was thinking about the words, and how true they were. But he wasn't going to ruin the moment by admitting that. Instead he twisted and threw his weight sideways, making an awkward sort of tackle that landed them both on the ground._

_James squawked in surprise, but quickly recovered to try and regain the upper hand. _

_As they struggled, Lily rolled her eyes. "You're missing the stars," she taunted gently._

_As a reflex, they both looked up into the darkening sky, and promptly stopped struggling. It was a very clear night, and out here away from city lights, the sky was gorgeous as the stars popped out._

_James disentangled himself from Harry and made his way back to his wife, never taking his eyes off the sky. Harry followed, climbed over his father, and snuggled between them._

_The three of them lay silently for a long moment. Eventually, Lily pointed into the sky. "See that star, the brightest one near the moon?"_

_Harry squinted, then nodded. "Yeah. We've studied that one. We can see it off the astronomy tower, usually without the telescope."_

"_Do you know the legend about it?"_

_Harry shook his head._

_James took up the story. "Muggles talk about the North star, but Wizards turn to this one. If you go towards that star, it is always supposed to lead you home."_

oOo

"Harry!"

"Go away," he snapped, not bothering to open his eyes or identify the voice—until he realized there was a weight on his chest and something breathing hot air against his face.

His eyes popped open as he willed himself not to panic or move.

At first glance he thought it was a monkey—a green, hairless, frog-like monkey. That was strange enough. The little stubs of horns spouting from his head were stranger, as was the large pustule in the middle of his forehead. The long arm that reached for him ended with a webbed hand. Harry winced as the hand was swept over his head, almost as if the thing were petting him.

It was probably a very intriguing creature. Harry, however, was rather too occupied with its teeth to notice anything else. It appeared to be smiling at him, wide mouth open, razor-sharp teeth displayed.

Hagrid was nearby. And really he should have known that was who was calling him; if there was an odd creature around, Hagrid usually was as well.

"I see you met Gerbert," his cheery voice continued, coming closer. "Come along now, Gerbert. Get off of Harry."

Harry could do little but stare as Hagrid took the strange little monkey-frog by one webbed hand and coaxed it away. "Gerbert?" he finally croaked in disbelief.

Hagrid beamed. "Yeah. He's my newest acquisition; a Clabbert. I'm gonna introduce him to the 3rd years in a couple of weeks, when he gets bigger."

"Bigger," Harry repeated dumbly. "He's a baby?"

"Yeah. What do you think?"

Harry managed a wan smile. "Oh, he's great, Hagrid. Um…what exactly does he eat?" Something with teeth like that could not possibly be an herbivore.

"Birds, lizards, little animals." Seeming to catch the meaning after a moment, he gave a hearty chuckle. "Oh, he wasn't going to eat_ you_, Harry."

Harry nodded. "Good."

"I mean, he might have taken a taste, but he certainly couldn't eat you up."

Harry stared at him and the grinning Clabbert for a beat, eyebrows raised. "Er…thanks, Hagrid. That's very comforting."

A new voice from behind Harry interrupted them. "Making new friends, Harry?"

Harry closed his eyes, groaning mentally. Hagrid, meanwhile, beamed at the man. "Afternoon, Professor Dumbledore, sir."

"Good afternoon, Hagrid." After a slight pause, the Headmaster addressed Harry. "Aren't you supposed to be in Potions now, Harry?"

Harry looked up at him but didn't answer, knowing that it was a rather rhetorical question.

Hagrid glanced at Harry, then offered, "Well, we all need a little break every now and again, Professor. 'Specially after Harry's accident yesterday. I'm sure the nap did him a world of good."

Harry winced. He knew Hagrid thought he was helping. He also knew how Dumbledore would react to the news of his 'nap.' He probably should say something in his own defense, but all he could do was look at the ground in contrition.

Dumbledore was generally cheerful, and difficult to read beyond that. But right then, when Harry looked back up, he could easily see the concern and disappointment in the old wizard's eyes. "I'm sorry Harry, but I feel I've little choice left in this matter. You must learn to occlude your mind. Pack a bag with the things you will need for the night. You're going to be staying in the spare room of Professor Snape's quarters."

Harry gaped at him. He'd known they were thinking about it of course. But he'd convinced himself that Snape would never, _ever_ go for it.

oOo

"They're making you _what_!"

Harry shot Ron a glare as he stuffed some clothes into his bag. "I am now sleeping in Snape's quarters," he repeated, then added more to himself than Ron, "Couldn't live with Sirius, who actually cared for me, but they can make me live with _Snape_."

"Dumbledore's gone mental!" Ron proclaimed, still in shock from Harry's abrupt announcement as he entered their dorm room.

"Yeah, I think I have to agree with that," Harry said absently. He closed his bag with a violent pull on the zipper and turned to head out of the room. As he came face-to-face with Ron he snapped, "Would you please stop looking at me as if I'm going off to my death?"

Ron winced and paled a bit. "Sorry."

Harry made his way down the stairs, with Ron trailing behind him on the still-healing leg. Harry slowed down himself without really realizing it. By the time they reached the common room he'd taken a few deep breaths and calmed enough to realize that he shouldn't be taking any of this out on Ron. He turned back to his friend. "No; I'm sorry," he said simply. "For everything."

"It's okay," Ron said with a sad smile. "If I were in your shoes, I'd be yelling at everyone too." After a pause he added, "Why don't you just refuse? Dumbledore can't really force you to do this, especially if you tell him you don't feel safe with Snape."

Harry sighed. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because! Because…what if they're right? Ron, I could have gotten you killed yesterday, not to mention nearly getting eaten myself this afternoon."

"You didn't. You shouldn't dwell on what-ifs."

Harry raised an eyebrow at that rather prosaic and un-Ron-like advice, but didn't address it. "Look, I don't want to do this, but..." he shrugged helplessly. "I don't know what to do. And I haven't exactly been given a choice here." Seeing that Ron needed something more, Harry surprised even himself with the truth of his next statement. "And, despite the mutual loathing between us, I'm not afraid of Snape anymore. I don't think he'd hurt me."

"Maybe not so it shows," Ron mumbled.

Harry recognized the protectiveness in his friend. He smiled slightly to show that he appreciated it. "I'll be fine, Ron. And I'll see you tomorrow at breakfast, all right?"

The redhead nodded reluctantly. But when Harry turned and climbed out of the Gryffindor common room a few minutes later, he left Ron looking after him in concern.

oOo

"I assure you that this is temporary. You will learn to do this on your own. And the sooner you do, the sooner you are out of my quarters."

Harry nodded absently, more occupied with taking in the appearance of Snape's quarters. The incredibly _normal_ appearance.

He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting. Perhaps bubbling cauldrons on the kitchen table, or dark arts paraphernalia on the shelves. Instead there were numerous books, stacked neatly. The entire place was tidy and clean, and surprisingly light for its lack of windows. It wasn't as dark and dungeon-like as one might expect.

Snape led Harry past one doorway and to a second, declaring his instructions. "You will sleep in here. You may put your things in the closet. The bathroom is over there. Call me when you are ready for bed." This last statement was made with a resigned sigh, as though he'd prefer almost anything to this situation.

For once, Harry wisely said nothing. He was completely out of his element here. He simply nodded and did as he'd been told.

Snape retreated to a chair near the fireplace and pulled out a thick book.

Harry resisted the urge to look through the cabinets and see what strange concoctions his Potions Master might have lurking there. He didn't really want to know. Instead he quickly changed into his pajamas and washed his face. He had fished his toothbrush out of the bag before he realized a problem.

With a sigh of resignation, he slowly made his way out of the bathroom and over to Snape's chair. Though he was certain the man was aware of his presence, he didn't even look up until Harry stood only a few feet away. Harry stopped there and grimaced slightly as he confessed, "I forgot my toothpaste."

"Packing for one night was too much of a strain for you, hmm?" Snape looked back to his book. "You may use mine. Top drawer on your right."

"Er…thank you." Harry stood there for a moment, thinking things were much too anticlimactic, at least for their typical encounters. When Snape didn't look back up again, he turned and wandered back to the bathroom. There he took out the toothpaste tube and spent a good five minutes studying it suspiciously as if it were perhaps spiked with dreamless sleep potion.

Finally he shrugged and squeezed out a miniscule amount of paste onto the bristles. A few minutes later, teeth brushed, he came back out and stood uncomfortably. He felt like a little boy asking to be tucked in, and he was quite unnerved by that image. "I guess I'm ready now."

Snape stood, setting his book aside, and followed Harry into the spare room without a word. He stood in a rather sinister way in the doorway, arms crossed, waiting as Harry climbed into bed.

Once he was settled, the Potions Master strode to the bedside. After a moment of deliberation, he rolled his eyes in a long-suffering manner and sat down gingerly on the edge.

Harry stared at him in a bit of shock that only increased when Snape reached to his face, carefully plucking the glasses from his nose and setting them on the bedside table. Harry felt an odd twinge as the gesture reminded him of his dream in the hospital wing—and Sirius.

Then he thought of what Sirius would say if he knew he were being compared to Snape. And despite the ache in his heart, Harry snickered.

Things were blurry now, so Harry missed the full impact of the dubious glance cast his way. "I cannot imagine what you have found to be amused about," came the cynical voice.

Harry shook his head, thinking that Snape would not find the image near as entertaining as he had. "Nothing. Sorry."

Snape shook his head in exasperation, muttered something about idiotic Gryffindors, and retained a rigid posture that managed to make him look menacing despite the fact that he was sitting on Harry Potter's bedside. "Concentrate, Potter. Close your eyes and focus on pushing thoughts from your head."

Harry tried to comply, really he did. But he found it near impossible to think about nothing. How does one focus on nothing?

"I don't think I can do this," he said after a moment, opening his eyes and trying to sit up.

"Potter," Snape growled, planting a hand on his chest and pushing him back into the pillows.

Harry grunted as the air left his lungs, then glared at Snape. "It's hard, all right?"

Snape glared right back. "Do you suppose that I do not know that from personal experience? The ability to occlude may be the only thing that saves your life. That has been the case for me, more than once."

For some reason, the reminder that Snape relied on these abilities and frequently put his life on the line only made Harry more upset. "I'm not _you_," he stated with a surprising amount of venom.

Snape snorted—actually _snorted_. "I believe that went without saying."

Harry clinched his fists in the sheet, more frustrated by the fact that Snape wasn't getting angry with him. "You know what? Maybe I can't do this. Maybe you've been right about me all along! Maybe I am weak. Maybe I always will be!"

He expected a satisfied smirk or a condescending comment. Instead Snape merely looked at him with an unreadable expression and said, "I am afraid that is not an option, Mr. Potter." Dark eyes studied him for a moment before his teacher heaved a sigh. "I assure you, this is no more comfortable for me than it is for you." With that, Snape replaced the hand on his chest, resting it there gently. With his thumb, he began to rub a steady cadence over Harry's breastbone. "I want you to focus on the touch. I don't imagine that part will be difficult. But I want you to let everything else go. Think _only_ about the feel of my hand."

He was right about one thing, it was near impossible for Harry _not_ to focus on the touch. What was hard was relaxing under that touch.

But the motion was soothing. He allowed his eyes to drift shut and focused his attention on the steady, soft sensation.

Eventually, bit by bit, he calmed. His thoughts did not wander, as he remained focused on the hand that remained on his chest.

It did not move until long after he had drifted off to sleep.

oOo

_to be continued_

Note: The Clabbert is one of JK Rowling's creations, listed in _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_.

I apologize for the long break before this chapter. Hopefully the rest of the story will be coming much more quickly. Thanks for sticking with me!


	8. Comfort in Grief

Surreality

By Perse

Chapter 8

oOo

Harry awoke to unfamiliar surroundings. He was worried for a moment before the events of the day before came rushing back. Then he lay still in a bit of shock, glancing around Snape's spare room, his mind racing.

He'd had no dreams. The occlusion had apparently warded them off. He tried to convince himself that the act of emptying his mind had simply lessened his own subconscious ability to dream. He wasn't sure that made sense, but he still wasn't ready to admit that these were from Voldemort.

Because he still wanted them so very badly.

He felt bereft. He had trouble finding words for the feeling, but finally decided that his soul felt empty. He hadn't realized how much he had come to rely on the dreams. With the panicky feelings encroaching on him now, he was beginning to think that they had been the only thing keeping him sane.

Had he been in his own bed, he probably would have felt the urge to close the curtains, burrow under the covers, and hide away from the world. But he wasn't in his own bed. So, instead, he felt the need to run.

He tried to get up, but he forgot the rather crucial step of pushing back the covers. He got tangled up and managed only to go toppling to the floor.

He whimpered slightly as his injuries made themselves known. The combination of the pain and having his limbs trapped in the covers only increased his panic. His heart was trip-hammering and he was finding it difficult to breathe.

"Potter?"

He jerked his head up. Snape was standing in the now open doorway, studying him and drawing conclusions about the scene.

"Do you make a habit of tumbling out of bed?"

Harry didn't dignify that with an answer. It was infuriating that the man just kept standing there, making no effort to help—especially since the blanket seemed intent on holding him prisoner. Harry struggled harder, even as he found himself getting dizzy from his short, shallow breathing.

"Potter?" There was something different about the tone now, though Harry didn't bother trying to identify it. The next thing he knew, Snape had knelt in front of him and grasped his shoulders.

Harry jerked backwards, slamming his back painfully into the bed. The pain was blinding for a moment—but it did bring him back to his senses.

Snape hadn't let go. "Breathe," he commanded. "Slow, deep breaths."

Harry stared at the man, focused on the hooked nose, and tried to do as he was told.

Eventually, he was able to catch his breath. As his breathing deepened, his heart rate began to slow.

Snape, meanwhile, had begun disentangling him from the blanket. "I wasn't aware that you suffered from panic attacks."

"I don't," Harry denied automatically.

"Then you do a marvelous impression of one," Snape shot back dryly, finally winning the battle with the blanket and standing.

Harry stood as well, slowly, analyzing what had just happened. He felt bleary now, as if the world was fuzzy. But he could think more clearly now than he had been a moment ago. Then, it had been like something else was in control. Not something external, like possession by Voldemort, but something internal, like…pure panic.

"Panic attacks. Terrific. That's just what I need," he said aloud.

Snape gave him a measuring look. "Can I assume that the occlumency worked? That that is why you are in this state?"

"Yes," he said shortly. He glanced at Snape, then quickly looked away before he could really read the man's expression. "I should get dressed," he announced awkwardly, then made for the bathroom.

He was trembling slightly as changed into his clothes and robe and splashed water on his face. The panic had receded, but it hadn't abandoned him entirely. His chest felt tight, emotions he didn't want to feel choking him.

He left the bathroom and headed directly for the door. Snape had other plans, however, and placed himself between Harry and escape.

"What?" he demanded, completely forgoing any semblance of respect.

Snape's face tightened. "We must talk."

"No, we mustn't. I need to get out of here."

"You need a great many things Potter, but that is not one of them. You must let me help you, so that…"

"So that Voldemort can't get to me. I know. Because I have to save the world," Harry mocked, an alarming amount of cynicism in his voice. "Maybe I don't think the world is worth saving anymore."

"I'm not sure it ever was, Mr. Potter. Nevertheless, do you really wish Voldemort to have it?"

The retort froze on his tongue and Harry went completely still for a moment, because it was the first time he'd ever heard Snape speak the dreaded name aloud.

Snape pressed the advantage that Harry's shock provided him. "Perhaps you don't care that he murdered your parents. Perhaps you don't mind if he goes on to murder your friends."

Harry shook his head, but couldn't speak. He felt tendrils of anger, but he didn't seem to have the mental strength to support the emotion. He could practically feel carefully constructed walls starting to crack under pressure. He tried to turn away.

But Snape didn't allow it. He grasped him by the arm and spun him back. "If Black were standing here, what would he say? He gave his life for you, for this fight. Would you tell him that he died for nothing? Don't you think he'd be disappointed in you? Would he call you a failure?"

"Damn you!" Harry yelled. He turned away, and this time Snape let him. After a moment he managed a quieter, "Damn it all," through encroaching sobs.

A few minutes passed, in which Harry choked back his tears between gulps for air. He wanted to run out of there, away from Snape. But something unidentifiable made him stay.

And, after those few long minutes, he was startled when a tentative hand touched his shoulder.

"But Black isn't here, and that is the problem." Snape's voice was lower now, softer somehow. "You cannot allow all this anger and sorrow to build up any longer. The Dark Lord is able to prey on you now because you have closed yourself off from reality. If you continue to do so, you will be lost."

Harry didn't respond, still fighting his emotions.

"Potter…you need to let yourself grieve," Snape said quietly.

Harry shook his head again spasmodically. He couldn't; it hurt too much. He would fall apart, break into a million pieces, and no one would be able to put him back together again. He was convinced that there was no one left in this reality capable of that.

Behind him, Snape sighed. He grabbed Harry by the arm and spun him around again. Harry tensed, half expecting to be slapped or simply yelled at.

Instead, incredibly, he was pulled into a rough embrace.

Harry stiffened and tried to pull away. Snape was rigid, completely unaccustomed to this and even more put off by Harry's reaction. But he was also strong and he did not give up easily. He pulled Harry back and held him in place, a hand cupped around each shoulder.

It was awkward, and painfully obvious that they were both uncomfortable.

But Harry had needed this for so long…

His chest was beginning to ache with the effort to hold back his grief. It wasn't that he forgot who was holding him. It was just that other things became more important. A solid, breathing body supported him. The hands slowly eased their grip on his shoulders, arms cautiously wrapping around him. Eventually, a hand tentatively came up to stroke his head, ever so lightly. And suddenly it didn't matter so much that it was Snape. What mattered was the tangible comfort being offered.

It was too much for Harry's tenuous control. The dam broke completely, and he found himself sobbing into the dark robes of the Potions Master.

He cried for his parents, and a life that could never be. He cried for Sirius, and the life his godfather should have led, and the relationship that he should have had with him. He cried for Cedric Diggory, who'd never even had a chance to live.

Most of all, he cried for the utter unfairness of a world that conspired for all of this to take place.

He fisted his hands in the dark robes, needing to hold onto something to keep from drowning. Then he lost himself in the cathartic tears, forgetting where he was entirely.

Long minutes later as he finally began to calm, he found that it was different here in reality. There was the feel of fabric under his cheek. There was the feel of slightly rough, cool fingers grazing his neck as they stroked his hair. There was the sound of a heartbeat under his ear.

All the affection in the dreams didn't come with the sensory experiences. He had thought it was satisfying his emotional needs. But this was different. This was…real.

Harry's tears slowed and eventually stopped. But he didn't try to move. On one hand, he didn't _want_ to move. There was no telling how long it would be before he had a chance to be held like this again, if ever. On the other hand, this was a bit mortifying. He had no idea how he was supposed to deal with Snape after this.

Snape didn't make any move to extract him from the embrace, either. Perhaps neither of them much knew what to do with this. It was somehow much easier not to move than to face each other and the awkwardness that would undoubtedly set in.

But eventually, the situation got to be too much for Harry. He convinced himself that nothing good could come from this. This was _Snape,_ after all. Come the next Potions class, the man would undoubtedly be degrading him again. He'd hated Harry from the moment he laid eyes on him—probably even longer. And, Harry reminded himself, Snape was only doing this on Dumbledore's orders.

Abruptly he let go of his fistfuls of robe and stepped back. Snape released him. Harry didn't bother to look up, not wanting to see the look on his face. "I should get to breakfast," he said shortly in way of explanation, then turned and fled the room.

oOo

Harry was on autopilot as he made his way into the Great Hall. He didn't really take note of the people around him, he simply made his way to their normal seats and nodded a good morning to his friends as he took the empty seat beside Ron and across from Hermione.

His thoughts were still back in the dungeons. Had he really just taken comfort in Snape's arms?

It took him a few moments to realize that Ron and Hermione were both staring at him.

He glanced between them, noting the obvious concern. "What?" he asked self-consciously.

"You've been crying," Hermione said, and it was a statement rather than a question.

It hadn't occurred to him that it would be that obvious. Now he flushed, looking down and instinctively bringing a hand to his face.

A hand touched his shoulder, prompting him to look back up. "What did he do to you?" Ron demanded in a whisper, barely contained fury in his voice.

Harry stared at him, not comprehending. It took him a moment to realize that they had assumed Snape had hurt him.

And really, just yesterday, he probably would have assumed the same thing.

"No, its not like that. He didn't hurt me or anything," he assured, then looked down again. He really had no desire to explain this.

"They pulled you out of the tower, away from us. You spent the night in Snape's quarters. And now you're so upset. What are we supposed to think?" Ron managed to keep his voice low, but his anger and worry were evident.

"Harry…" Hermione was gazing at him seriously as she leaned across the table. "Tell us what happened?"

Harry shook his head. "Nothing. The occlumency worked; I didn't have any dreams last night."

"Is that what's upset you?" Hermione prodded gently.

Harry shrugged uncomfortably, but it was a sign that his friends recognized as an affirmative.

"Mate…what exactly is in these dreams?"

He had resisted telling them so that the dreams would be a special, private thing. There was really no point in keeping that secret any longer. Harry swallowed convulsively, then said, "My parents, mostly. Sirius sometimes. They're nothing special really, just…little snippets of everyday life. The way it could have been." He laughed slightly, but it was a humorless, ugly sound. "The way it could never be. Little tastes of things I have never and _will_ never have."

He could practically taste the bitterness in his voice. He didn't look up at his friends; didn't want to see pity.

"Oh, Harry." Hermione reached to take his hand. "No wonder you prefer that to the real world."

"Yeah…wow. That's a good plan. I never would have expected You-Know-Who to…"

Harry shot him a sharp glance, and he shut up. Ron had never been good with words. In fact, they tended to get him into trouble. Now, he forewent speaking and simply slid a hand across Harry's shoulder to squeeze his neck gently.

Harry shivered slightly, feeling the tears prick again. The hand remained, a solid, comforting warmth kneading his neck slightly. The hand that held his squeezed.

Harry shut his eyes tightly. He wanted comfort, wanted it _so_ badly. The sheer force of that want terrified him. He wondered how long that had been going on in his subconscious.

He'd known this would happen. He'd allowed himself to crack, and now he was broken and bleeding and he would never be able to heal.

He sensed that he was being watched. He glanced up to the teacher's table, and his gaze met Snape's.

He couldn't read the older man's expression. It was disconcerting.

With a bit of effort, he looked away. Abruptly he stood, pulling his hand away from Hermione and twisting away from Ron's touch. "I have to go…somewhere else," he finished lamely, and took off.

"Harry!" Ron bellowed behind him.

He didn't look back.

oOo

Harry had had a very long day.

About two minutes after he'd left the Great Hall, Dobby had popped in beside him. And Dobby hadn't left his side since. He liked Dobby, really he did. But he knew perfectly well why the elf was there. He didn't even bother to ask who had ordered him to stick to Harry like glue.

If there was one thing Dobby was good at, it was purposefully, incessantly making his presence known. There would be no napping, accidental or otherwise, while Dobby was around.

The positive side to having Dobby around was that it was easier to ignore everyone else. No one tried to strike up a serious conversation with a lively house elf no more than a foot away.

Harry had spent the day avoiding Ron and Hermione, who would not have been put off so easily. He had cut the classes he shared with them and refused to go into the Great Hall for lunch or dinner. As a result, he was tired, hungry, and a bit depressed.

To cap it all off, he had to serve his first of the week's worth of detention tonight.

He'd actually shown up in the dungeon classroom early, of his own free will. He didn't pause to examine his motivation for that too closely. Dobby, of course, had accompanied him and would undoubtedly be staying until Snape showed up.

Currently, the elf was chattering about Winky and her butterbeer addiction. Harry had his head in his hands and was staring blankly at the front wall.

When he heard the door open, he actually felt a shock of happiness. It was fleeting, however, once he turned and saw who it was.

He rolled his eyes and put his head in his hands again. "Malfoy," he said tonelessly.

"Potter," came the returning sneer. "Enjoying your punishment, I see."

He turned back, looking pointedly at the pink streak that didn't seem to have faded a bit. "Enjoying it more now. Thanks for reminding me that it was worth it."

Draco came closer, giving Dobby a similar pointed look. "Your choice in company is certainly fitting. Is this the only friend you have left?"

Dobby shrank back, clearly afraid. Harry had forgotten for a moment that Dobby had once been little more than a mistreated slave to the Malfoys. The elf's reaction now angered Harry all the more.

"You're one to talk, Malfoy. Come back when you have even one real friend, and we can have this conversation."

He meant it to sting, and he knew it would bring anger. Sure enough, Draco's eyes narrowed. "I'm not the one with the habit of running out of the Great Hall, away from everyone."

Harry was not in the mood to go through this with Malfoy. "What did your _friends_ think of your new hairstyle?" Harry prodded. "Because mine thought it was great."

That did it. Draco pulled his wand out with a sneer, and Harry followed suit. They raised them in unison, pointing them steadily at each other.

They were interrupted by a high-pitched, inhuman squeal. Dobby thrust himself between them, long arms wrapped over his head for protection. He had his eyes squeezed shut.

Lucky for Dobby, Snape chose that moment to walk in. Both of their wands disappeared from sight in an instant. Harry winced slightly as he poked himself hard by thrusting his behind his back. Snape paused, taking in the scene, then slowly continued making his way towards them.

"Boys." Snape's gaze slid between them, suspiciously. Finding them together did generally precede disaster of some sort. Though he had nothing to feel guilty about, Harry looked away.

"I needed to speak with you, Professor," Draco said sweetly and respectfully. Harry rolled his eyes.

Snape nodded. "Give me a moment," he intoned, then snapped and gestured in a way that apparently signaled that he wanted to speak with Dobby. The house elf hastened to follow Snape towards the chalkboard, casting nervous looks back at Draco.

Harry and Draco took to casting each other malevolent looks as Snape had a low conversation with the servant. Snape seemed angry with the elf over something.

Dobby's voice was not near as low as Snape's. "But Dobby was not supposed to leave Harry Potter, sir—not for anything! Dobby takes his assignments very seriously, sir!"

Draco snickered. "Is this what you've come to, Potter? Having my rejected servants baby-sitting you?"

Harry responded softly, so Snape would not overhear. "For your information, Dobby was not rejected. Your father was actually very upset about losing him. Dobby and I simply outsmarted him."

He was then reminded that Draco could move surprisingly fast, as the end of the wand was in his face in three seconds flat. "Don't talk about my father," the blonde hissed coldly.

There was a pop that was Dobby leaving, and then Snape turned back to them. Draco backed off immediately, but there was no way Snape hadn't seen what was happening. He strode back to them, gazed at them for a few seconds, then said simply, "Draco, you needed something?"

Draco, not Mr. Malfoy, Harry noted. And he didn't call him on the behavior, of course. Angrily, Harry thought that Snape could probably catch Draco casting an unforgivable and still not call him on it.

Draco cast a contemptuous look Harry's way. "Can I speak with you alone, Professor?"

"Certainly. Potter, you're going to be cleaning the cauldrons for me." He paused, opening a cabinet. Harry stared at the cleaning supplies. "By hand," Snape concluded. "You'd best get started; I expect it will take you all night." He held out a hand and demanded, "Wand."

Harry handed it over. Snape snatched it away from him, then turned on his heel and walked away with his Slytherin. Harry stared after him for a moment, at a bit of a loss. Then Draco sneered at him, and he turned to the cauldrons with a sigh of resignation.

He'd known it would happen. He'd known that this morning, whatever it was, would not actually have changed anything.

He pulled out the cleaning supplies and gazed unhappily into the first cauldron. Apparently the first-years had been using them. Something Harry preferred not to identify was caked on the sides. He was going to have to scrape at it.

As he began to work, his attention drifted back towards the pair near the door. This seemed like something more than a question about an assignment. Harry knew that Draco had known Snape since he was little, that Lucius had been good friends with the Potions Master. For Draco, Snape had always been a very different man than he was with any of the other students. All of the Slytherins received better treatment than the other houses, but Draco stood out even amongst them.

He watched as Snape put his hand on Draco's shoulder. The blond visibly relaxed at the touch, leaning against the older man a bit. Snape gave him a comforting pat before steering him towards the door.

Harry jerked his head back around with a firm snap. He was absolutely _not_ jealous of Draco Malfoy. Especially not of Malfoy's relationship with Professor Snape. Because if that were the case, then he had hit rock bottom.

He was seriously beginning to wonder if he was finally cracking up. Maybe he should check into St. Mungo's now and save them all a lot of trouble.

Snape stepped out of the classroom with Draco. Harry began scraping the side of the cauldron with an almost violent vigor.

There was a pop beside him, but Harry didn't pause his movements as he cast an annoyed glance at Dobby. The house elf was holding a plate piled high with food. "Dobby has brought you dinner, sir."

"I'm sorry Dobby, but I'm supposed to be cleaning. I don't think Professor Snape will like it much if I'm eating instead."

"But Professor Snape told me to bring it to you, Harry Potter, sir."

Harry stopped scraping then, and stared. "He did?"

"Oh, yes. He was quite angry that Harry Potter had not eaten all day."

"_That's_ what he was upset with you about?" Harry asked, not quite believing it.

"Take the plate, Mr. Potter," a deep voice interrupted them. Harry spun, staring at Snape in confusion. "Come sit down and eat."

Dobby thrust the plate into Harry's hands, then bowed and disapparated with a pop.

Harry looked from the food to the Professor. "The cauldrons aren't clean yet," he finally said.

"I am aware of that. I am also aware that in your zest to avoid everyone you have not eaten anything since yesterday. Come sit down and eat."

Slowly, warily, Harry did as he was told. He wasn't at all sure what to make of Snape anymore. He settled, picked up his fork, and began to eat, all the while keeping an eye on his teacher.

After a moment he asked a bit snidely, "Did you fix Malfoy's crisis?"

"That is none of your concern. And don't talk with your mouth full."

Harry found himself staring once more, mouth open.

Snape gave him a disgusted look. "And don't do that, for Merlin's sake. Didn't anyone ever teach you any manners?"

Harry snapped his jaw shut, more confused that ever. He had been having some very odd moments with Snape lately. He had started to get the impression that perhaps the man didn't hate him quite as completely as he had thought. But then, with Malfoy…

He kept eating, though later he wouldn't be able to recall exactly what he had eaten. He watched curiously as Snape returned his wand, placing it on the table in front of him. Then the Potions Master went to the cauldrons and began spelling them, cleaning them himself.

Harry finished the food as Snape was moving to the last cauldron. He finally dared to speak up. "I thought that was my job."

Snape barely spared him a glance. "It is late, and you are in need of more undisturbed sleep."

He almost tested his luck and said what he was thinking: _But this is supposed to be punishment_. But then, perhaps this was punishment. He didn't like being so confused. He didn't like much of anything he'd been feeling lately.

In fact, the only time he'd felt normal all day was when he'd been pointing a wand at Draco Malfoy.

Apart from that, he had continued to feel as if he were slowly coming apart at the seems.

He didn't say this, though. He didn't say anything.

He disposed of the plate, Snape finished with the cauldrons, and then he obediently followed Snape from the classroom back to his quarters. There, they pretty much repeated the routine of the night before. Harry changed and climbed into bed. Snape sat with him, encouraging him to occlude his mind.

Harry was grateful for the dark. He focused on nothing, and somehow found that appropriate.

Silent tears slid down his cheeks, born of the emptiness inside him.

As he drifted off, he barely felt a cool pair of fingers brushing the moisture away.

oOo

tbc


	9. Revelations

Surreality

By Perse

Chapter 9

oOo

The weekend came, a time when it was easy for him to avoid people. Especially with the decree that he not yet be allowed back on his broom, an order that's origin he couldn't specifically pin down. Whomever it had been dealt from, it was in place until Dumbledore himself removed it. Meanwhile, McGonagall still reinstated him, new captain Ron declared him Seeker, and the team simply practiced without him.

He and Snape continued their nightly ritual of occlusion. And the dreams stayed away.

It would seem that the longer he had been without them, the better he should have adjusted. But it wasn't working that way. Instead, it was like withdrawal from some powerful drug. He got worse…moodier, more likely to go to pieces at any moment, more withdrawn from his friends. He knew it was bad when he found himself wishing Malfoy would happen by so they could have a good row, perhaps curse each other into serious pain. Physical pain he could handle.

He'd dealt with emotional pain all his life. But now, he'd had two very different sources showing him that things could be different. One being the dreams, the other being Snape. When it seemed both were unattainable, he couldn't seem to cope.

Snape…he was beginning to think Snape was just beyond understanding. There were several moments when the Potions Master showed what Harry almost labeled as compassion. Nothing near the scale of the comfort he'd offered that first morning, but little things like a softer tone and civil conversations. They had an Occlumency session which, for the first time, Harry would not have called a low point of his life. There was no taunting, and Snape had actually prepared him before he cast the spell. All of this added up to a softer side of Severus Snape that Harry would have bet his life did not exist a month ago.

And yet, the old Snape was always just around the corner, and there was little warning before Harry was abruptly dealing with him again. Then he would feel as if he was hated again, an unwanted burden in the man's way only because Dumbledore had decreed it.

Harry took to shutting himself in a corner of the library, sitting alone near the Dark Forest, or simply skulking about the dungeons. He was burying himself in, of all things, his schoolwork. At this rate, his grades would soon rival Hermione's. Dobby was bringing him more food than he could eat, making it possible to avoid the Great Hall. He spent the weekend like this, ignoring anyone he happened to come across and having actual conversations with only Dobby and Snape.

He was surprised that Ron and Hermione hadn't come busting down the doors to Snape's quarters yet—until Dobby let slip that he'd been talking to them on the sly. Still, he doubted Dobby was able to convince them of much more than the fact that he was eating and still alive. But Ron was busy, of course, with Quidditch—perhaps too busy for a best friend who was avoiding him anyway.

Inevitably, Monday rolled around again. He had breakfast in the dungeon, ignoring Snape's odd glances, but was forced to venture out for classes.

He was in the hallway, passing by the Room of Requirement, when he was abruptly grabbed by two pairs of hands and manhandled into the room.

"Hey!" he complained, even once he saw who it was.

Hermione threw her arms around him and hugged him hard, making his breath escape in a soft "oof."

She pulled away, saying, "That's for being all right," and then preceded to smack him in the arm, "and that's for making us worry!"

"Ow!" he complained, rubbing at the now sore spot.

Then Ron was plucking at his wrists, moving the sleeves of the robe so he could see the skin. "Er…what are you doing?" Harry asked.

"Just checking," Ron muttered, backing off a bit.

Harry stared at him. "What, you think I've been chained up in the dungeons or something?"

Ron exchanged a glance with Hermione, who was giving him an exasperated look. "The thought might have occurred to me," he confessed in a mumble. Then, louder, he added, "I kind of expected you to show up at the field and watch, even if you couldn't actually play. I figured you'd have missed Quidditch."

It was then Harry's turn to shrug uncomfortably and mumble. "I was catching up with my schoolwork. And maybe getting ahead a bit."

Ron stared at him incredulously. Hermione looked as if she couldn't decide whether to be pleased by this information or more concerned because of it. She shook it off and gestured around the room. "Look, Harry, the others have been asking when we might start meetings again. We told them we'd have to check with you."

The DA…he hadn't even thought of the DA. "I don't know, Hermione. Look…you could lead it. You'd be good at it. You should start back without me."

"Mate, the point is…we don't want to start without you. We want you to come back." And Harry got the distinct impression that he wasn't just referring to coming back to the DA. They wanted him to come back to them, to act as if things were normal again.

But he just wasn't sure if he could. "I can't right now…unless you want Snape to know all about them." It had seemed like a good excuse; belatedly he realized he'd made it sound as if Snape was blatantly perusing all of his thoughts. He shook his head and, before he could dig himself in any deeper, said, "We're going to be late for class. We can talk about this later, all right?"

And he pushed past them, and walked out.

But they didn't discuss it later, at least not that day. Dobby had become rather accustomed to providing Harry with his meals, and he popped in just before lunch and dinner, making a trek to the Great Hall once again unnecessary. Harry ate outside, with Dobby for company, and established a vibe for anyone who might come near that said quite clearly, 'Leave me alone.'

That night, he made his way to the dungeon for detention, arriving early as had become his custom.

When he arrived, Snape was curt but civil, assigning him to help with preparation of materials for the next day's classes. Harry stood beside him at the long table in the front of the classroom, extracting seeds from a plant that would have been considered too hazardous for the first-years to touch.

They worked in silence for a long while, with only Snape's instructions to him breaking it. Eventually, Snape spoke up with an abrupt, "So—to hear the other students talk, you have become even less pleasant to be around than I am."

Harry stared at him in surprise for a moment before he frowned. "I think I resent that."

"As do I," Snape returned dryly.

"Well, its not as if I'm hateful to them," he said pointedly.

"Because you're too busy for them—doing what exactly? Wishing this world didn't exist? Finding them utterly unworthy of your time?"

That wasn't really true, the reason was much deeper, but he wasn't in the mood to probe at it. So he shot back, "Maybe. I have more important things to concentrate on, don't I? Like saving them all?"

"Oh, yes. Your importance is unrivalled. Then, by all means, you should feel free to make yourself a great burden for everyone around you as you work on saving them." Snape leaned closer, eyes flashing with anger. "Your arrogance is astonishing—even if expected."

Harry stood still then, watching Snape, seething in silence and stinging more than usual from the old jibe at his father…and the statement before it.

This just wasn't fair. Cutting off the dreams had made a void deep in Harry and left him feeling horribly vulnerable emotionally. Snape was the only person he was having any significant contact with.

And the Professor was offering him something, something he wanted desperately and needed. Or rather, at times it _seemed_ he was offering it. But then he would pull it away again and be the harsh, unyielding man Harry had known since first year.

If this were happening only in front of others, he could perhaps understand it. Their private lessons had been a secret from the start, for Snape had appearances to keep. But as this little scene was exemplifying, it occurred in private as well. It was as if Snape was grudgingly doing his duty, managing to come off almost as if he cared, but occasionally letting the act slip.

Harry hated the seesawing emotions. On one hand he was softening towards Snape, wanting that relationship and almost willing to take it. He liked the softer side he'd been seeing. But every time Snape gave him cause to doubt that it was at all sincere, he hated the man all the more for taunting him like this.

That thought in mind, he tightened his jaw and accused, "This is fun for you, isn't it? A front row seat to watch me fall apart. To even urge it along a bit. Does it make you feel better? Does it help you even the score with a dead man?"

Snape looked a bit surprised by the outburst. "Your father has nothing to do with this."

"My father has _everything_ to do with this! From moment one, everything about us has revolved around him. You can't tell me that watching me fall doesn't feel like watching him fall. And you can't tell me you haven't wanted that for twenty years!"

The surprise was gone, the anger fully in place again. "As you so astutely pointed out, he is _dead_. He is not here, and has no place in this discussion! And that is the biggest of your many problems, Potter. You need to bury him and your mother, and Black."

The last name was said with a horribly distasteful sneer. The scene conjured a sudden flash of memory for Harry. An image of the kitchen of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, of Snape taunting Sirius.

Hatred flared—a gaping black hole inside of him threatening to swallow him whole.

He was so angry that he couldn't speak for a moment. When he finally did, it was calm and quiet and cold as ice. "Maybe I will. Maybe you could show me how. You are supposed to be teaching me to get through this, right? Please, give me some advice on burying the past."

He didn't wait for the inevitable explosion. And he didn't think about the punishment he would get for shirking detention. He simply turned, and he walked out.

That blind anger carried him up from the dungeons and out of the castle. The sky was beginning to darken as the sun descended. He hadn't even consciously decided where he was going, so it was a bit of a surprise that he found himself staring up at the Whomping Willow.

His vision was blurring, so he scrubbed angrily at his wet face before cautiously moving closer. A couple of close dodges and dives later and he was into the passageway.

Then, he knew exactly where he was going and why. There was only one place in the immediate area of Hogwarts where he felt really close to Sirius and his father. The place where he knew they'd played and been happy when they were his age. The place where he'd finally met Sirius and learned the truth.

He reached the Shrieking Shack and climbed the stairs, entering the room. He remembered the scene in here vividly. He walked to the spot where Sirius had lay on the ground as Harry pointed his wand at him. The same spot where Remus had pulled him to his feet and hugged him, giving Sirius his first taste of friendship in twelve long years.

He sat down on that spot, caressing the wood as he remembered how confused they'd been. How much hatred had been in him, how much he'd wanted to hurt Sirius...

He shut his eyes, shook his head, and bit his bottom lip. Bury them, Snape said. How was he supposed to do that? That wasn't fair to them. They had died for him, all three of them. He owed them something more, something beyond just laying them to rest and moving on.

He opened his eyes and stared around the room. He could almost imagine a werewolf and a big black dog locked in a playful wrestling match in the corner, could practically envision a mighty stag prancing in the doorway.

Having these dreams, being so happy in them—it felt like keeping them alive. Cutting them off—well, that felt like killing them all over again.

He didn't notice when the first sob came, wasn't really even aware of them until breathing became difficult. Then he curled in on himself in a futile attempt to stop the pain. He shifted until he was lying in a fetal ball on the floor, and cried. It hurt, and he wanted it to stop, and he didn't even realize that he was crying himself into a weary sleep.

Occlusion never even crossed his mind.

oOo

_Harry woke crying._

_A horrible sense of loss and fear swept over him, drowning him, making it impossible for him to stop the tears._

_He pushed himself out of bed and stumbled into the hall, entirely forgetting his glasses until he nearly tripped down the bottom half of the stairs. Holding onto the banister for dear life he managed to right himself, but the noise drew attention. Lily appeared at the base of the staircase, a fuzzy red-headed shape immediately holding out her arms. "Harry, what happened? What's wrong?"_

_He didn't answer, just propelled himself into her arms and continued to cry._

_She held him urgently, calling out to his Dad and Sirius, who were in the next room. He was dimly aware that they had joined them and seemed as worried as she was._

"_Harry, son," James insinuated himself close, in Harry's line of vision. "Talk to us. What happened?"_

"_I had a nightmare…and you…were all…dead…it was so real," he finally choked out._

_His mother coaxed him to the couch, and then sat down beside him, his father on the other side. Sirius crouched in front of him, his weight supported by the coffee table. All three looked at him with concern and love as they reached to comfort him._

"_Hey, kiddo, what's with this fear lately, huh?" James asked._

"_I don't know," he choked out between sobs._

"_You aren't having visions, are you?" Sirius asked with a mock seriousness._

"_Sirius," Lily said with some exasperation._

"_No," Harry replied brokenly. "Just feelings. And a regular old nightmare."_

"_Hey…" Sirius got his attention again and held up a hand. "I solemnly swear, we will never be separated from you. At least not until you're grown up and sick of us," he added with a smile._

"_That'll never happen!" Harry exclaimed, horrified by the thought._

"_Easy, Harry." Sirius reached to squeeze his hand. "I was joking. And even if that were to happen, you know us. We're never going away."_

_Harry shook his head in denial. "I want to be a kid and believe that you have the power to back that up, but…you can't promise that. That's not the way life works."_

_They exchanged a look he was familiar with, the Our-baby's-growing-up look. The his father shifted closer, pulling him to lean against him and bringing a hand up to gently pet his head. He answered seriously, "You're right. But Harry, even if the unthinkable were to happen and all three of us were taken from this life…well, even then, we could still be together."_

"_What do you mean? How?"_

"_There is life beyond this, you know," James said seriously, still stroking his hair lightly. "All you would have to do is follow us."_

"_You mean…" Harry let the sentence trail off, his stomach squirming slightly. But they were all looking at him with such love in their eyes, and it didn't seem as scary as the prospect of being without them. "And we could be together?" he asked softly._

"_Forever."_

_He finally smiled through his tears._

oOo

Harry snapped awake, sitting up before his eyes were even open. His heart pounded at the content of the dream, and he felt vaguely queasy. His mind raced as the realization hit him with the impact of a truck.

They had been right all along. Voldemort really was the author of these dreams.

He knew, abruptly, that he wasn't safe and shouldn't be alone.

He rose and looked out the window, trying to determine the time. Colors lit the horizon of the darkening sky, so he couldn't have been too long. Except…the colors were in the wrong direction. That was the sunrise, not the sunset. He'd been there all night.

And an unexpected little thought insinuated itself into his turmoil—Snape would be looking for him.

He stumbled out of the room, down the stairs, and into the passageway. As he made his way, his mind raced to put the pieces together. He thought back over all of the dreams.

The first few had been innocent enough, drawing a pretty picture of a safe, normal family life. Drawing him in.

Once the normalcy had been established, there had been a definite theme—he was lonely or afraid of losing them, and they always assured him that he would never be alone. Three times he'd had a variation of that—the birthday dream, the hospital dream with his Dad, and the hospital wing with Sirius.

And then there'd been the little one, the one with his parents and the stars and—an association of getting home with the top of the astronomy tower. Oh, he felt sick.

He had to admit, Voldemort was good. There'd been a slow, emotionally charged buildup to the ultimate goal. He hadn't seen it coming.

He stumbled up the slight incline to the opening beneath the Willow and prepared himself to prod the knob on the tree trunk before he was beaten to a bloody pulp by branches. It took him a moment to realize that the tree was strangely still and silent.

He poked his head out and squinted in the dim morning light; stared up into a pale, hard face.

"Potter."

Ooh. Snape was pissed.

"Professor," he managed to croak out, as if this were some normal encounter in a hallway.

Snape's eyes flashed, and he came closer to grab hold of one of Harry's elbows and force him completely out of the passageway. "I don't suppose that in your stupidity it occurred to you that leaving the grounds might put you in great danger? _Especially_ alone? The entire staff is looking for you!"

There was something to be said for the fact that Snape had been heading towards the passageway. He had figured it out, where apparently no one else had.

But Harry couldn't dwell on that right then. He also couldn't answer. Now that he had a vague sense of safety back, the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach grew to overwhelming nausea. Abruptly he pulled his arm free and pushed past Snape, barely making it to a nearby bush before he threw up. He knelt there, retching, bringing up what little was in his stomach and then suffering dry heaves.

He heard a pop, then saw a blaze of green light shoot over his head. A signal, he assumed, to the other Professors that he had been found in one piece.

Then he dimly realized that Snape had followed him as he heard, "Are you ill?" A cold hand was pressed against his forehead, presumably checking for fever. It felt good, not only for the coolness but because it was actual, physical touch. He leaned into it.

"He wants me to kill myself," he said softly, and it was as if the words were coming from a great distance. He was vaguely aware that Snape had looked at him sharply and was now studying him intently. He continued, "He thinks he can make me kill myself. That's what this has all been leading up to. Everything…all the promises that they'd never leave me, getting me to feel so comfortable there, planting the suggestion of jumping from the astronomy tower to get home…"

"Potter, you're babbling," Snape snapped, an urgency in his voice as he gripped Harry by the shoulders and turned him around.

Harry swallowed convulsively, and tried to calm down enough to explain. "I went to the Shrieking Shack…I guess you figured that out. Anyway, I fell asleep."

Snape looked at him severely. "You didn't occlude your mind, did you?"

"No," he confessed softly. "But if its any consolation, I believe you now. I believe they're from Voldemort."

Snape studied him with dark eyes, gesturing for him to go on.

Harry swallowed hard, then said, "I dreamed that I had a nightmare they were all dead—a nightmare of my real life, I guess. But when I woke, and they comforted me …things got strange. My father said we could always be together, if not in life then…" he broke off, swallowing hard. At last he whispered, "And I wanted that…"

Snape shifted from his knees to sit on the ground directly in front of him, looking at him with something suspiciously like concern. "And now?"

"Now?" Actually, he hadn't gotten much past shock yet. He thought for a few minutes. "Is that what it would be like? I mean…do you think I'll get to be with them when I die?"

Snape drew back a bit, gazing at him seriously. He considered his answer and then said, "Perhaps. There is no way for any of the living to be certain what may happen after death."

Then he stood with surprising grace, and held a hand down to him. "Come," he instructed simply.

Harry looked at him quizzically, but accepted the hand up and followed him back into the castle. Snape didn't say a word as they made their way towards the Great Hall, and Harry kept the silence as well.

They met McGonagall a bit inside the entrance, a look of relief displayed on her features. "Mr. Potter. Good to see you in one piece."

He nodded to her and tried to smile. She didn't dwell, and neither did Firenze when they encountered him a few moments later. There seemed to be some unspoken understanding that he was in Snape's charge, even with his own head of house.

Snape led him to the great doors. As he opened them a crack, Harry finally spoke. "It's a bit early for breakfast, isn't it?"

"Perhaps, but as we searched the castle for you we had to contain the other students. We didn't know what danger we might be facing."

Harry hung his head slightly, feeling guilty now. It surprised him that he hadn't been feeling it before, and he realized that Snape's concern had mostly left him with a warm feeling insinuating itself into that void he'd been feeling for days.

He was shaky with that realization, and it didn't help when Snape reached back and caught him around the shoulders, pulling him in close to the man's side so he could look into the room. He gave in and let himself relax as Snape spoke, "If indeed your parents and Black are waiting for you beyond the veil, they will wait. They will be there; they have no need for you to hurry. But _they_," he motioned towards Harry's group of friends at the Gryffindor table, "are here. And they all care for you as well, even if they do not quite compare to your parents and Black. And they do need you, here and now."

Harry was looking not only at his friends, but at everyone in the crowded hall. "I know," he whispered. And he did know. It was the weight of the wizarding world, on his shoulders.

It made him feel that he had to live, even if it didn't make him feel that much better about it.

Then, Ron turned and spotted him. He elbowed Hermione, who broke into a wide smile. Then they were both up, hurrying towards him.

Snape gave him a slight push. "Go. We can discuss your punishment for making me run around Hogwarts like an idiot later."

If he didn't know better, he'd have sworn that was teasing. He glanced back at Snape, who wore his normal serious expression. There was something perhaps a bit softer in his eyes, though. He offered the man a crooked, uncertain half-grin before he abruptly had his arms full of Hermione, and Ron was pounding him on the back as the entire Gryffindor table jumped up and moved towards them.

oOo

tbc


	10. Questions of Trust

Surreality

By Perse

Chapter 10

oOo

Harry spent the morning with his friends, but his mind was elsewhere.

He couldn't help but wonder—if he hadn't had Snape insisting it was Voldemort and giving him something in the physical world to hope for, how would he have taken that last dream? How would he have reacted to the suggestion?

He didn't want to examine it too closely. But he strongly suspected that Snape had saved his life. _Again_.

His prior feelings for Snape were still a part of him. He wasn't sure he'd ever really, fully forgive the man. But somewhere along the way, he had started to trust him. Coming out of the passageway to see him, even as angry as the Potions Master had been, had given him a sense of security.

After that realization, he'd finally calmed down and taken an objective look at this thing with Snape. Harry's error, the reason he'd gotten so angry, was in letting his emotions get the best of him. He'd been so vulnerable that he'd been reaching blindly for an attachment, and that desire had come up against a brick wall in the form of all his issues with Snape and all of Snape's issues with him. He realized now that he had been testing it, purposely being difficult because he expected it would crumble with a little prodding. Then, when they'd degenerated into the fight, he'd been terribly upset about being right.

And yet, Snape had still come looking for him. He'd figured out where to find him. And the thought that he would do so had been a surprising comfort to Harry.

While it was entirely possible that Snape still didn't like him much, the man was willing to be civil—most of the time—and to help him get through this. Maybe that was enough.

So that afternoon after classes found him up in his Gryffindor dorm, packing his things. Not everything of course, he still intended to visit often and eventually come back to stay. But for the time being, he needed Snape's help. He needed to stay with his Professor. And he couldn't keep coming every day to restock his clothing supply.

Ron had offered to help. But he was doing less helping and more brooding, studying Harry in a way that was making him uneasy. Finally he sighed, dropped the sweater he was folding onto the bed, and looked at his friend. "What is it, Ron?"

"I've been thinking…"

"Uh oh," Harry said with a slight smile, half-teasing and half-wary.

The redhead sighed. "It's _Snape_, Harry," he said, as if that explained everything. When Harry merely raised an eyebrow he continued, "After everything we've been through with him, and everything we know, do you really trust him?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably, and broke eye contact. "I don't know," he confessed. "But he's different lately."

"Really? No one else has noticed."

"He's different with me," Harry clarified, surprised to find that he felt a bit defensive, and surprised by his reluctance to add truthfully, "Most of the time, anyway."

"And—don't take this the wrong way, but doesn't that seem a bit odd to you? I mean, doesn't this whole situation feel weird?"

"Ron, my life is an exhibit of weird. It always has been."

"I know, I just…look, you said yourself that it seemed a bit clumsy, for You-Know-Who to try to force the issue like that."

Harry frowned at him, wondering where this was going. It was true; once he'd gotten past the shock, he had thought that this last dream had been a little abrupt. The buildup had been slow and subtle and then he had been slammed with the blatant suicide suggestion. Snape had told him that it was likely Voldemort had been trying to access his mind for the last few days, but had been unable to do so due to the Occlusion. So when he had gotten access again, he had just gone for broke.

That had made sense to Harry, and he reminded Ron of it now.

"Snape told you," Ron muttered in response.

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Well what do _you_ think is going on then?"

"I know Dumbledore's positive that he is working for us, but…what if he's wrong, Harry? What if Snape's real loyalties lie with You-Know-Who? And what if…what if he didn't really want you to kill yourself? What if this is exactly what he wanted; to push you closer to Snape?"

Harry stared at him, and felt a rush of cold go through his stomach.

Ron continued, "Because if that was the case, Snape would have to be acting a little different, a little nicer to you to draw you in…"

Even as Harry shook his head in denial, he sat down hard on the bed. They sat in silence for a moment before he shook his head dazedly and said, "We've always been quick to doubt Snape. And we've always been wrong."

"Maybe, but think about it. The dreams make you realize there's something you really want, but you can't have it. Then, all of a sudden, it's being offered to you. I just think that you shouldn't be so quick to trust him. You should at least be sure of his loyalties first."

"Then what do I do, Ron? Please, tell me what to do." He'd meant it to sound sarcastic, but somehow desperation had dominated his tone.

Ron tilted his head. "I suppose just asking him wouldn't be worth much," he said sarcastically.

Harry stared at him. "Probably not."

"Harry…you weren't really getting close to him, were you?"

Harry glanced away, and refused to answer. Really, hadn't he just been thinking about this? He thought he'd detached himself. Apparently that hadn't worked as well as he'd thought.

The lack of response was a louder answer than anything he could have said. Ron winced slightly, but got up and came around to sit down next to Harry. "As I understand it, this is about family…right? About having someone care for you?"

Harry shrugged, equally uncomfortable, but nodded. "That's what the dreams were about, yeah." After a pause he added in a mumble, "Some deep-seated need that I hadn't fully realized, and yet was blatantly obvious to Voldemort."

Ron was getting better about the cringing that went along with the name, but it was still noticeable. Nevertheless, he pushed past it easily enough. "Well…you know my family loves you, right? You know Mum would adopt you if she could. We might have to die your hair red, but..." he trailed off, a small smile gracing his face.

Harry tried to return it, he really did. But he didn't think he'd managed. He didn't want to hurt his friend, but as this seemed like an honest conversation he decided he had best try for the truth. "Thanks, Ron. You know I love your family, but…it's just not the same," he finished in a whisper.

Ron bristled visibly, and Harry knew that he had hurt him despite his intentions. And he knew Ron would take it personally. "I know it's not like having your parents, but c'mon, Harry. You prefer Snape? You can't possibly believe that he could ever give you anything you need," he said scornfully.

Harry stood from the bed, feeling a bit of anger begin to bubble. "I need to keep Voldemort out of my head. He's giving me that," he snapped.

"Even if he is, it won't matter much if he's tricking you into trusting him! He can just hand you over!" Ron was waving his hands wildly, trying to emphasize his point.

Harry's stomach began to churn along with his thoughts. He tried to fight back the panicky feeling, grasping for reason. "But none of this was Snape's idea. I heard them talking in the hospital wing—he didn't even want to do it. I'm pretty sure Dumbledore made him."

"Dumbledore's a great wizard and everything, but he's very old and he has moments when he's wrong about you, and he seems to have a big blind spot when it comes to Snape!"

That was perhaps true, and Harry had thought each of those things himself more than once, but somehow hearing Ron say them in the heat of anger only served to upset him more. Half of him wanted to defend Dumbledore, the other half wanted to defend Snape, and he somehow couldn't find the words to do either. Instead he ended up snapping, "This isn't even your business!"

There was an instant when the expression on Ron's face told him that it had stung. But then the anger was back. "What are you mad at me for?" Ron yelled, raising his voice to match Harry's.

'_Because you're suggesting that Snape's evil and no one cares about me without an ulterior motive,'_ his mind supplied. But on some level he knew that was a bit skewed, and so he didn't say it. "I don't know!" he yelled back instead.

Then they stared at each other, each breathing a bit harder than normal, a myriad of emotions crossing their faces.

"I've got to go. Snape's expecting me for Occlumency," Harry finally said quietly, his words clipped.

He stepped closer, intending to grab his bag. Ron was between him and it. They had a moment of stalemate, in which Harry glared as hard as he was being glared at.

Finally, Ron rolled his eyes and gave an exasperated huff before he moved aside. Harry grabbed the bag and turned to stalk out the door.

Then Ron went and ruined his dramatic exit. "Harry!" Reluctantly, Harry paused and looked back at him.

Ron sighed, held out his hands helplessly, but didn't apologize. "Just please be careful, all right?" Unspoken went the simple but pointed phrase: _'Don't trust him.'_

Harry found a sudden lump in his throat. He nodded curtly, then left without a word.

oOo

Harry was paying little attention to his surroundings as he wandered down into the dungeons with his bag slung over his shoulder. He was taking his time, stalling really, as he dwelled on his conversation with Ron.

The further he got from the tower, the more the anger faded and allowed his awakened doubts about Snape to take over. Because really, Ron had been making an uncomfortable amount of sense. He knew that he needed to squelch these doubts, one way or the other. He needed a plan.

They were supposed to have an Occlumency session tonight. Last year, he had accidentally accessed Snape's memories through their link when he cast a shielding charm. He would simply have to do it on purpose this time. And if he could direct his own memories, he might be able to lead Snape's train of thought.

So intent was he on plotting and worrying that he wasn't watching where he was going. He rounded a corner and almost ran smack into Draco Malfoy.

"Potter? What are you doing down here?" He looked at the bag, which Harry self-consciously shifted until it was mostly hidden behind his back. "Moving out? Have you come to say goodbye?" the blonde asked with a smirk.

It was rare that Harry didn't have some kind of comeback with Draco. But at that moment, he could not come up with any good excuse for why he was heading towards Snape's quarters with a bag of clothes in hand.

Luckily, they were interrupted by approaching footsteps. "Mr. Malfoy, you left your textbook…" Snape paused as he came upon them, dark eyes shifting between them. "Mr. Potter," he said warily.

"I think Potter's decided to move in with your stock of snake eyes and toad tongues, Professor. He needs some new friends."

Harry found his voice then. "Actually, you couldn't pay me enough to join Slytherin, but thanks for the suggestion Malfoy," he shot back coolly.

Draco's eyes flashed, almost certainly a prelude to something nasty, but Snape interrupted. "Actually, Mr. Potter has legitimate business here. His ineptitude in our extra Potions sessions led to an unfortunate incident with our robes and a purplish substance. He, of course, had to clean them—the Muggle way."

Laundry? Harry raised an eyebrow, certain that even his over-occupied mind could have come up with something better than that.

But it belittled him, so Malfoy was happy to buy it. He was smirking like Christmas had come early.

"Come, Mr. Potter. You may bring it to my quarters."

As Snape walked away, Draco leaned closer and lowered his voice. "Really, Potter. NEWT level, and still needing remedial potions? Guess it's a good thing you're Dumbledore's pet. He must order the professors to be extra lenient with you."

That hit a little close to home, and Harry scowled. "And what are you doing here?" He motioned to the textbook. "Not cheating, are we? Getting undue help? If I'm Dumbledore's favorite, then Snape…" He trailed off, realizing that he didn't really want to point that out.

Once again, Snape rescued him with a perturbed, "Potter!" from down the hallway.

With one last sneer, Draco pushed past him. Harry spent a moment looking after him. Malfoy might not be the brightest crayon in the box, but he wasn't an idiot either. If he spent enough time with Snape—and it seemed that he did—he was eventually going to notice that something was going on.

This was too many things to worry about at once. Deciding that Malfoy didn't take precedence, he turned back to Snape and closed the distance between them. "Laundry?" he asked doubtfully.

"Well I did not see you getting yourself out of the situation," Snape huffed indignantly.

It was really rather amusing, and Harry fought the urge to smile.

Snape drew himself up to his full height, trying to regain his dignity. "Come, Mr. Potter. Let us get the Occlumency session over with before dinner."

Harry's brief lightheartedness vanished with that. He followed Snape to his quarters and took his bag to the spare room. There, he slung it onto the bed and then paused for a moment, leaning against the desk. He closed his eyes and took a few calming breaths, trying to prepare himself for what he was about to do.

"Something is wrong?"

Harry jumped, spinning to see that Snape had come to stand just inside the doorway. "Er…no. I'm fine."

"You will meet me in my office, then?"

Harry made an attempt at a smile. "Sure. I'll be right there."

Snape was still eying him a bit warily, but he turned to go.

After a moment—an awful moment in which he realized how much he appreciated that subtle show of concern and wondered if it was at all real—Harry followed.

Snape was organizing papers on his desk when Harry arrived. He glanced up, then laid a stack to the side and came around to meet him as he pulled out his wand. "Ready?"

Harry took a deep breath, and then reluctantly nodded.

"_Legilimens_."

He'd grown quite accustomed to blocking Snape from random access to his memories. But this time, he had to let him in. It was disconcerting, and at first he didn't have any control. His memories reeled…

…he and Hermione stood before the Whomping Willow, watching helplessly as Ron was dragged through the small opening and his leg broke with a sickening crack…

…he was in a little shack, trying to sleep on the floor. Hagrid came bursting in, and then he was hearing about the magical world for the first time and learning the first truths about who his parents had been…

…he was eight, and sick. He had a fever that had made him dizzy, and he'd been shivering so badly that he'd dropped the pan full of bacon on the floor. His uncle had yelled and given him a good, hard slap before locking him in his cupboard…

He sensed it as Snape actually pulled back a bit at that memory. Regaining some sense of where he was, Harry struggled to direct the next one…

…Harry turned from Bellatrix with dread, and caught sight of him. Tall, thin, and black-hooded…terrible snake-like face barely visible…pure hatred in the red eyes. Harry couldn't move as the wand was pointed at him. He could do nothing as the killing curse was cast, and the statue barely stepped in front of him in time…

And that would do. With no small amount of effort, Harry pulled his consciousness back to the present, until he could see Snape standing before him as well as the remnants of the memory as Dumbledore appeared. He shook off the fear the scene had brought back to the surface, then he raised his own wand. "_Protego!_"

And, just as last time, Snape's wand flew from his hand, and Harry was plunged into a memory that was decidedly not his.

It was a different setting, but the dark, towering figure was the same. He stood in the middle of a shadowy room. Though it was difficult to see, Harry recognized Professor Snape as he approached and bowed before him.

"Severus, I anxiously await your report," the serpentine voice hissed.

Harry stiffened as he realized what he was watching.

"I fear things are getting better, my lord. He still mourns for Black, but he seems to have escaped the depression. He is more content and has regained much of that arrogant self-confidence. I suppose the resumed Quidditch practices and his Gryffindor friends have something to do with it," Snape responded with a sneer.

Scarlet eyes narrowed into slits. "You have no more than that to tell me?"

"This is all observation of course; I do not get close to the boy other than for our remedial sessions. He is still as abominable as ever with potions." His voice was calm and casual, as if he were merely chatting with a friend. But there was a hint of a resigned look on his face. "I'm afraid there's nothing more to tell at the moment."

"Severus, you disappoint me."

"I am sorry, my lord."

"Sorry…yes, I expect you are." Long, grayish fingers reached out to caress the man's cheek in a deceptively gentle manner. Then they were withdrawn, and the wand was produced. "Crucio."

Snape collapsed to the ground, limbs curling in on themselves in a way all too familiar to Harry. He knew the curse was excruciating. But Snape kept consciousness, and he didn't even cry out, though pain was evident on his face. He gave off the definite impression of a man who had dealt with the curse before—more than once.

When the pain eased off, Voldemort slunk closer and knelt beside him. "You will try harder for me now, will you not?"

Snape looked up, expression perfectly schooled once more. "Yes, my lord."

Harry forcefully pulled back. When the connection was severed he fell to his knees gasping, feeling sick.

The silence was deafening. When he was able to look up, the state the Potions Master was in made his heart stumble. Snape was holding onto the edge of the desk for support, his face even paler than normal and his breathing ragged.

"I'm sorry," Harry choked out. "I didn't—" he cut himself off mid-sentence. He'd been about to claim that he hadn't meant to do it, but it would be obvious to Snape that that wasn't true. "I'm sorry," he said again, lamely.

With a bit of effort, Snape composed himself. He stood stiffly by the desk, as Harry made no effort whatsoever to get up. He remained on his knees, staring up at his Professor.

"You do not trust me," Snape finally stated. "It is…understandable."

Harry might have imagined it, or there might have been a bit of hurt in the tone. He bit his lip and looked down, unable to meet Snape's gaze.

"I think that is enough for one night. You are obviously developing defensive abilities. You should get to the Great Hall for supper. I will see you in our quarters later."

_Our_ quarters? Harry's head snapped up at that, but Snape had already turned his attention away, pointedly dismissing him. He probably didn't even realize what he had said; Harry could tell that he had rattled the man.

There was little point in trying to talk to an upset Snape. Besides, Harry had no idea what to say at that moment. So he climbed slowly to his feet and left the office, his emotions in a turmoil of their own.

oOo

tbc


	11. Glimpses

Surreality

By Perse

Chapter 11

oOo

He didn't go to the Great Hall for dinner. That would have required dealing with Ron, and he wasn't up to that at the moment.

He was hungry however, and Dobby was quickly becoming his best meal companion anyway. He soon found himself in the Hogwarts kitchens, accepting heaping plates from several eager house elves. Most of them quickly went back to their work. Dobby brought him his main course and then sat beside him for a bit.

But for once, Dobby seemed to sense that his thoughts were elsewhere. After a few attempts at conversation the little elf went back to chattering at the others and left Harry to his food—and his brooding.

The scene he had witnessed in Snape's memories bothered him. His knee-jerk reaction was to put all his energy into _not_ thinking about it, but somehow he knew that he needed to figure it out.

The simple logistics of the scene were upsetting him so much that he couldn't look past them. Snape, reporting to Voldemort. About Harry.

Quite suddenly, the food was not so appealing. He put down his loaded fork and forced himself to swallow what was already in his mouth.

He had to get himself past that. He thought about it for a moment, and came to some surprising conclusions. Really, what had he supposed Voldemort would expect from a death eater stationed in Dumbledore's inner circle? From someone who lived within the protective barriers that held Harry Potter?

He had never really given that much thought to Snape's spying position. Sure, he was feeding them information about Voldemort. But from the other side—from Voldemort's point of view—he had a spy who saw Harry almost every day. Of course he would expect reports from Snape on him.

It still made him uncomfortable, but it made sense.

He slowly picked up his fork and began to eat again, mostly to occupy his hands as he now tried to push past that initial reaction and remember all the details of the scene.

It was definitely a recent memory. Snape had spoken of Sirius' death, which put the timeframe into the last couple of months. And then he had talked of Quidditch practices as if the term were well underway.

Quidditch practices…Harry's brow furrowed. He wasn't participating in the Gryffindor practices yet. His one attempt had been a rousing disaster. Nearly killing a friend was not exactly a confidence booster.

He wasn't really gaining much comfort from his friends at the moment, either. He was far from content. And Snape had played down his contact with Harry as well, claiming only to see him during their make-believe remedial sessions.

Harry shut his eyes briefly, and felt a small smile touch his lips. Snape wasn't catering to Voldemort. He was protecting Harry.

He allowed himself to feel the wash of relief for a moment.

But he'd also seen what those lies cost the Potions Master. Harry shivered involuntarily with phantom pain from the memory. It was almost beyond his comprehension that Snape had suffered that to protect him. That he had probably been doing it for quite a while, even before this semester. Back when animosity had still been his chief emotion towards Harry.

That was perhaps the price he paid to work for good. Suffering, constantly battered by darkness—often in the name of Harry Potter.

It was reason for Snape to resent him all the more.

With all of the man's reasons, legitimate or not, it was hard for Harry to grasp why Snape's attitude towards him had begun to change. Or perhaps he had just been burned so many times that he could no longer accept anything without some doubts.

In this spirit of paranoia, he found reason to doubt his new conclusions as well. He really didn't know the extent of Snape's Occlumency abilities—or the limits of the magic itself, for that matter. Aside from everything else, that scene proved that Snape was a good actor. Perhaps he could have faked that memory.

But why that scene—if he was trying to gain trust, why give Harry something that would immediately make him doubt?

Perhaps caution was still necessary. But Harry's instincts said to trust him.

His heart said the same.

His brain was still working on it, but…it would do for now.

With a renewed sense of purpose, he thanked Dobby and the other elves and bid them a good night as he headed out of the kitchen.

oOo

Snape spared him a glance when he entered the quarters, but quickly turned his attention back to his book.

Harry fidgeted for a moment in the doorway, then screwed up his courage and stepped closer to the padded chair by the fire. "I want to trust you," he announced without preamble.

Snape's attention—and his eyebrows—shot back up. They stared at each other for a moment before Snape cleared his throat and very calmly reached for his bookmark. As he sat the book aside, Harry went on, "That's odd for me, because I've spent five years wanting reasons _not_ to trust you."

There was a hint of a smirk, but then Snape sat back and watched him solemnly, apparently willing to let him talk.

Feeling terribly self-conscious, Harry moved to sit on the nearby couch, effectively stalling for a moment as he got his thoughts together. Finally he met Snape's eyes once more and said, "I've never been under any illusions about adults being perfect. Still, I give trust easily enough. It hasn't always come back to haunt me, but the times that it has…I trusted Quirrell; I thought he was the victim. I suppose my trust wasn't really misplaced in Remus, but he was certainly keeping things from me. Dumbledore has that habit, too. And Moody…I knew he was a little off, sure. But I thought I had a real ally there." He paused to take a breath, then confessed, "I've been wrong so often that I hesitate to put faith in anyone anymore."

"But it is particularly difficult now because it is me." It was a statement, not a question, but Harry couldn't detect any real anger there. Snape was paying careful attention to the little speech, making Harry feel both encouraged and a bit nervous.

He decided to go with brutal honesty. "You have hated me and treated me as such since the moment we met. And it quickly became mutual. I always distrusted you because of that." He paused, then finished, "And that's changed somewhat now."

Snape gave him a slight nod, barely perceptible, still studying him closely. After a moment he said, "If you desire to hear me beg for your trust, I fear you shall be sorely disappointed."

Harry snorted despite himself, and thought with a bit of wonder that Snape had just come very close to making a joke. "I can't even imagine that. Things haven't changed _that_ much."

Dark eyes pierced him, serious once more, holding his gaze. "Words are meaningless. They can just as easily conceal as reveal truth—perhaps even more so."

"I know that," Harry said softly, intensely. "Actions speak louder."

Snape's eyes bored into his, and Harry felt he couldn't have looked away if he wanted. Finally he said, "I would not have had you witness that scene, Mr. Potter."

"Why not?" Harry blurted. "Maybe the important truth is in what you _don't_ say."

Snape just continued to watch him unnervingly, tilting his head slightly. Harry was starting to realize that he was going to have to learn to read the slight nuances of Snape's expressions, because the man certainly wasn't going to just volunteer what he was thinking. Finally he said, " There is some information about the Dark Lord that you need. The inner workings of his interaction with his Death Eaters does not qualify."

Harry could have argued that point, but he sensed there was something deeper there that Snape did not want to say. He suspected it had to do with his defense of Harry and the resulting Cruciatus curse. He let it go.

"I think I may have finally learned my lesson about rushing into things without thinking them through. That's good, since that tends to get people killed," Harry said conversationally, as though he wasn't discussing something that deeply affected him. Honestly he continued, "I'm not ready to trust you completely yet. But maybe I don't need to. Because I do trust you to teach me, and help me."

Snape said nothing, but did offer him a solemn nod.

After a moment of emotionally charged silence, Harry felt he had to say something more. "I really expected you to be angry with me," he said carefully.

"I was," Snape responded evenly. "Perhaps I would be more so if it was not evidence that you are finally learning."

Harry bristled a bit at that, but swallowed it easily enough. "I am sorry," he forced out softly. "I probably didn't have any right to do it."

"I found it…disconcerting. More so than I would have expected." Obsidian eyes found his once more. "But the truth is that you did have a right, Mr. Potter. My purpose in all of this is to teach you to protect yourself. If that is what you felt you needed to do…" Snape trailed off, shrugging one shoulder, and went back to his reading, clearly thinking the conversation over.

Harry stared for a moment, thinking that there was no way it could be that easy. Snape was not the forgive-and-forget type.

And perhaps if he had witnessed something more personal, like a childhood memory, this would be going much worse. But that encounter with Voldemort was not outside the scope of what Harry had already known about Snape. It was, however, something that the man had borne alone—until tonight.

Harry finally summoned his courage and spoke up as loudly as he could, which was barely more than a whisper. "I know what it feels like, you know. I know how it hurts."

Snape glanced back up at him. And in that instant, the normally hard-to-read eyes held a fathom of emotion. Aloud he stated simply, "I know you do," then went back to his book.

Silence reigned again. Harry shifted uncomfortably, uncertain as to what he should do now.

Snape solved that for him a moment later. Without looking up once he said, "Are you just going to stand there and gawk all night? Go prepare for bed; I'll be in in a moment."

Harry opened his mouth to respond, then shut it. Instead he simply tucked his chin to his chest, hiding a small smile, and turned to go find his pajamas.

oOo

_Harry ran, as fast as his little legs would carry him._

_Though smaller, he was faster than Dudley. His cousin would not catch him._

_He slowed after leaping to the porch and forced himself to creep silently through the door, his heart pounding in his ears. As he shut the door and made his way quietly past the loud television in the living room, he didn't even notice the muddy footprints he was leaving on Petunia's spotless floor._

_He made directly for his cupboard. They would easily find him in there, but to the five-year-old mind that seemed like the only logical choice. It was the only sanctuary he'd ever known._

_He climbed in and shut the door, cocooning himself in the darkness. Sure, he would get mud all over everything that was his in the world, but he didn't care. He curled up, wrapping his arms around his knees, and rocked himself slightly as he awaited the fallout._

_It had been a beautiful day outside, the first in a week to lack rain. He'd been enjoying the sunshine and gotten distracted. He was usually quite careful to stay far from Dudley and his friends._

_But today, they had found him. Tormenting Harry was their favorite after-school game. He'd been on the ground in a mud puddle, with Dudley standing over him, when he'd twisted and quite accidentally tripped his cousin. Dudley had started turning an interesting shade of purple beneath the slick mud, and Harry had taken off._

_The front door opened, then slammed shut, and Harry froze. Soon he heard Dudley's indignant whines and his aunt's concerned fawning. Then there were heavy footsteps coming towards him. Harry cowered into the very corner._

"_Boy! You come out here!" The door was torn open._

_The big man's face was purple with rage. Harry tried to dodge the hand that was thrust into his cupboard, but all too soon it caught hold of his shirt and pulled._

"_No! No, uncle, no!" He fought, grabbed desperate hold of the doorframe, tried to avoid the punishment he knew was coming. When he was pulled loose, he made one last ditch effort to lunge past the man towards safety._

"Potter! Potter, you're dreaming!"

He came awake with a start, coming entirely upright and lunging toward the light from the main room before he was fully awake.

Strong arms caught him, wrestled him back, and he panicked. Crying, "No!" over and over again, he struggled against the restraint.

"Potter, wake up!"

The words finally penetrated. He recognized the voice and stopped striking at the strong, solid form. Tentatively, he latched onto one of the arms maintaining a vice grip around him. "Professor?"

"Yes." The voice sounded a bit relieved. "You are all right."

For a moment the only sound was Harry's harsh breathing. Then, "Are you with me now?"

Harry took another moment to calm himself before nodding against the man's chest, noticing as he did that his face was wet.

Snape loosened his grip, patted him on the back once, then released him entirely. Harry squinted at the dark shape as the man settled on the edge of the bed.

Harry scooted back to rest against the pillows, untangling himself from the covers as he went. Once there, he found himself uncomfortable under Snape's scrutiny, despite that he couldn't actually see the observing eyes very well. Eventually he said softly, "Sorry."

"There is no need for apology." Another moment of uneasy silence, then Snape asked, "Was it a vision?"

And that would be cause for concern, of course, since he'd occluded his mind before bed. "No. No...this was an actual memory." That scene from earlier in their session must have awakened some old tensions. Harry realized that the hand he had raised to his eyes was trembling, and he dropped it to fist in the blanket once more.

"You said something about an uncle."

Harry froze and shot a deer-in-the-headlights look Snape's way. Then he looked down, suddenly finding his twisting fingers terribly interesting.

"Would that be the grotesquely rotund man I've seen in our Occlumency sessions?"

And despite the emotions, Harry snickered at the description. "That's Uncle Vernon," he confirmed. He didn't elaborate, and the slight quirk quickly left his lips again.

Snape's next question surprised Harry. "That memory earlier, the one from your childhood…was that a common scene?"

Harry squinted at him, uncertain of what he was being asked. "You mean the fever? I wasn't sick all that often, actually. I was really healthy—which is kind of surprising, considering everything."

Snape seemed uncomfortable, but still determined to get an answer. "No, I was referring to the situation. Were you punished in that manner often?"

And now Harry was the uncomfortable one. He looked away again. "Erm…not really. I mean, he was always yelling, always angry at me, often for simply existing. But he only hit me on occasion."

"That is…good to know, I suppose." Snape sounded strange, a little strangled. "What of that tiny space you were forced into?"

"Oh, that? No, that wasn't punishment. I lived there."

"You what?" came the sharp question.

Harry glanced up at him, surprised at the strength of the reaction. "That was my room."

"That was a closet," Snape countered, in a harsh manner that made Harry feel as if he were being called stupid.

And that was perhaps the reason for his matter-of-fact reply. "Cupboard, actually. Smaller than most closets."

Snape stared at him, seemingly speechless. "You lived there?"

"For as long as I can remember." And, though he didn't know why he felt compelled to say it, he continued, "It was dark and cramped, and there were spiders. And it was my safe place. It was all that was mine," he finished quietly, barely whispering.

There was another moment of emotionally charged silence.

"I can't imagine you even fit in there anymore," Snape mused, still sounding strange.

"No…after my first Hogwarts letter came, they gave me my cousin's second bedroom. I think they were a bit afraid of me then. But until then…" he trailed off, watching the Potions Master curiously.

After another moment, Snape visibly shook himself and stood. "Well. As you have calmed, you should go back to sleep, Mr. Potter."

He turned to go, and Harry stared after him, an amused half-smile playing at his lips. "Without occluding my mind, sir?"

Snape turned back, then heaved a put-upon sigh and moved back to his side. "Lie down," he instructed impatiently, giving him a slight push and brusquely pushing the blanket back around his shoulders.

It was in an entirely Snapish way, of course. But Harry was almost certain this was concern.

A feeling of warmth settled in Harry's chest. His brain was forced to remind his heart that trust was still fragile, and that he had to tread carefully.

And then he set about occluding his mind, and told his brain to shut up.

oOo

The next morning dawned for Harry somewhat later than it should have.

When he realized the time, he vaulted out of bed and into the main room, where he was greeted by an odd sight.

He stared blankly for a moment, wondering if he had woken in some alternate dimension, before Snape caught sight of him and spoke. "I thought perhaps you would like your breakfast here."

Harry finally remembered to move and stumbled a bit closer to the small kitchen. He eyed the table, filled as it was with several plates of various breakfast foods. He saw eggs, prepared at least three different ways. There was toast, and sausage and bacon, and a plate of pancakes accompanied by syrup. And…were those waffles? He forced his startled gaze from the table to Snape.

"I didn't know what you might like. I thought your little elf friend might be of use, but instead he brought enough food to feed at least two of the houses."

Harry wasn't quite processing this yet. "I overslept," he finally announced dumbly.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Yes. That is why I thought it would be best if you did not have to traipse all the way to the Great Hall for breakfast."

Harry pulled out a chair and unceremoniously plopped down, pondering this new development. He usually woke early on his own, conditioned from years of being expected to be up preparing breakfast for the Dursleys. It certainly wasn't Snape's job to wake him, but he was a bit surprised that he hadn't. Of course, they had suffered a rather disrupted night.

He watched as Snape sat across from him, and took the plate that was offered as Snape began to prepare his own from the many choices. Finally, he began to pile the plate high and reached for his silverware. "It would take hours to eat all this. And I still have to get dressed. I might be late for my first class," he said with only slight hesitancy, glancing up at Snape as he did so. It happened that Potions was his first class that morning.

"I would not advise that, Mr. Potter, unless you enjoy my company so much that you wish to serve even more detention," Snape answered mildly.

Harry hid his grin, wondering when exactly Snape has become capable of teasing. "Oh, no, anything but that," he shot back. "I hate to break it to you, but detention with you is more enjoyable than with Lockhart. Or Umbridge," he added, sobered a bit.

"Oh? Do tell," Snape prompted. And while he managed to sound as if he were merely continuing their bantering, Harry could sense the curiosity there.

He shrugged. "Lockhart made me answer his fan mail," he said with an exaggerated eye roll. "There was a disturbing amount of it."

"Hmm. And Umbridge?"

Funny how Snape always seemed to zero in on whatever Harry really wanted to avoid. "She just made me do lines. Lots and lots of lines." He tried to make it sound horribly boring, and busied himself with cutting up his sausage to avoid eye contact.

And yet, Snape somehow knew exactly what he hadn't said. Harry looked up again when Snape abruptly gripped his right hand, making him drop the knife. He didn't fight as his hand was turned palm down and held tightly, a thumb running over the thin skin.

The cuts had eventually healed pretty well. The scarring was very slight. But there were a couple of tiny raised lines on the skin, and Snape's thumb easily found them.

The tight grip loosened somewhat as Snape glanced up at him, and Harry found his own fingers curling slightly. He met Snape's intense gaze and shook his head. He didn't want to talk about it. It wasn't as if anything could be done.

Gently, he pulled his hand from his professor's grasp and picked up his fork. He slipped back into the joking mood easily enough. "Come to think of it, that first detention with Hagrid was rather hazardous. And I'm pretty sure Filch would like nothing more than to string me up somewhere. I think I may be safest with you."

"Perhaps you are, Mr. Potter." There was a curiously soft note in the tone. But it was gone by the next sentence, causing Harry to wonder if he'd imagined it. "Nevertheless, you may wish to avoid making it a permanent addition to your class schedule."

"I don't know, I seem to be doing pretty well in detention now. It might be my best shot at a good grade this term."

"Hmm," Snape said noncommittally. "Now that we've done something about your biggest diversion, you shall have to do something about catching up on your studies."

Harry froze with the fork halfway to his mouth and stared. He'd never had an adult telling him to do his homework before.

Snape caught the look and questioned, "What?"

Harry shook himself and went back to his food. "Nothing. Sorry,"

Snape gave him an odd look, but let it go as he stood. "I need to spend some time in my office preparing for class. You may call for the house elf to clean up when you are finished."

Harry shook his head. "No, that's all right. I can do it myself." He was quite used to it after a childhood with the Dursleys, but he didn't add that. Better to let Snape think it was just sympathy for the plight of the house elves.

And yet, he seemed to have thrown Snape yet again. "If you wish," the Potions Master said dubiously. "But I will not accept it as an excuse for tardiness."

Harry glanced up at him with a crooked grin. "Yes, sir," he said nonchalantly.

Snape shook his head once, then turned to make his way out of the quarters. Harry watched him go, the grin still in place.

He cleaned up in record time and actually made his way to class early. Of course, it helped that he was so near the classroom already.

He briefly entertained the idea of sitting up front. But that would be a red flag, especially for the Slytherins in the class. He and Snape couldn't afford to alter their public image of mutual animosity. It would only raise unwanted questions and suspicions.

So he took his normal seat in the back of the classroom, as far from Snape as one could get.

He realized that he was going to have to face Ron and Hermione now, and he was actually dreading it. Last night and this morning had been as close as he'd ever come to what he imagined having a parent would be like. He wanted to revel in it a bit longer before dragging it all under the microscope once more.

He wondered if his two friends would be presenting a united front, or if Hermione would temper Ron to some degree. She tended to be the cooler head amongst the three of them. He prayed she would listen to his new views of Snape.

When they arrived together a moment later, he turned to watch them. Hermione gave him a slight smile. But as his eyes met Ron's, he couldn't hold the gaze and shortly looked away.

Ron shot him a pained look, then started around him to find another seat.

Harry looked to Hermione, hoping she would sit beside him so they could talk. But she only turned her frustrated look from him to Ron, then stopped the redhead from getting far. She grabbed him by the elbow and pulled him back, propelling him to Harry's side and giving him a slight push into the chair. Both boys stared at her until she finally said, "Look you two, we are not going through this again. You're both miserable to be around when you're fighting. Talk to each other," she ordered. Then with a last long look at the two of them, she claimed a place at the table in front of theirs and turned her attention forwards.

Harry cast an uneasy glance Ron's way, quickly looking away again when Ron turned his head. He willed Snape to show up at that moment.

He didn't. The awkward silence lasted a few seconds more before Ron turned fully to him and spoke. "Look…I'm sorry for how we left things yesterday. But have you thought about what I said?"

While the words 'I'm sorry' had been in there, it somehow didn't much sound like an apology. The tone irked Harry. "I did nothing but think about it. And then I _did_ something about it. And you were wrong, all right? I don't think he had anything to do with the dreams; he's just trying to help me."

Ron gave a short, humorless bark of laughter. "Do you hear yourself? You're talking about Snape like he's some grand, spotless hero."

Harry's eyes flashed. "Look, Ron, he's not the evil git you think he is."

Ron shook his head. "Harry…" he began, but didn't get further as the dungeon door was abruptly thrown open, and the object of their argument came storming in in typical fashion.

Snape took up his place in the front of the room and began telling them about the potion they would be working on that day.

He could feel Ron fidgeting beside him. Harry, on the other hand, sat still as a stone, feeling heavy. He wasn't really hearing a thing Snape was saying, but somehow the sharp tone and acidic treble soothed his frayed nerves.

It took a piercing "Mr. Weasley!" to bring him fully back to awareness.

Snape had come close at some point and was now standing over them, looking as menacing as ever. "Have you something better to do?"

Harry cast a sideways glance at Ron. He saw the initial surprise quickly fade to anger. Still, his friend choked out, "No, sir."

Snape arched an eyebrow before swiftly switching his attention. "And Mr. Potter. Can you repeat the last thing I said?"

Harry started slightly, and stared. "Erm…Mr. Weasley, have you something better to do?"

The entire class was hanging on this little encounter. But, at the back of the dungeon as they were, the only ones who could see Snape's face were Harry and Ron. Focused as he was on holding in his anger, Ron wasn't paying much attention. But Harry was. He knew he was pushing it. But he was watching the dark eyes, needing to see the reaction.

In response to his flippancy Snape's other eyebrow joined the first, and Harry was almost certain he saw a flash of amusement.

Of course, no one else got any inkling of this. Snape's outward persona was firmly in place when he spoke. "Ten points from Gryffindor. For each of you. And if you wish to avoid pain and possible disfigurement from an improper brew, I strongly suggest you pay attention to my instructions."

He turned and swept away.

"Oh yeah, he's definitely softened," Ron muttered.

Harry clenched his jaw, and fought the desire to lean over and tell him what had been happening between the lines just then. But he didn't. He doubted Ron would believe him anyway.

Neither of them spoke for a bit, though Harry doubted Ron was listening any better than he was. They kept the silence as they went up to the front to claim their ingredients, until they got back to their table and began to prepare the potion. Then, after checking to see that Snape was occupied elsewhere, Harry spoke again. "I really did take what you said seriously, all right? But I think I can trust him."

Ron rolled his eyes, a hint of desperation amongst the scorn in his expression. "Harry, you can't be serious! After everything you've been through, after everything you've been through with _him_, how can you still be so naïve?"

Harry stiffened. "This is not naiveté."

Ron sighed. "No, maybe its not. Maybe it's something a lot deeper. And if that's the case…Harry, you need to let us help you get through this. You need to turn to the people you can trust, not—" he trailed off, waving his hand meaningfully towards Malfoy's table where Snape was offering advice.

Harry followed the gesture, then rolled his eyes heavenward with an exasperated sigh. He wasn't getting through, and he didn't know what to say without describing Snape's memory in detail. And even that wouldn't explain the gut instinct that was telling Harry to trust the Potions Master.

Ron took his silence as encouragement. "You said you did something. What was it? You didn't just come out and ask him, did you? Because that might put you in even _more_ danger."

"I am not in danger!" Harry responded adamantly.

Quite abruptly, their potion sparked as if emphasizing his point. They both jumped back, looking warily at the cauldron. "Was it supposed to do that?" Ron asked suspiciously.

Hermione turned around then, an exasperated look on her face. "I know I told you to talk, but perhaps you should wait until after class. Neither of you is paying any attention to what you're doing. You'll be lucky if that doesn't turn you green, or worse."

Ron waited until she turned around, then sneered at the back of her head.

"I felt that, Ronald!"

The redhead froze, his features dropping into a surprised look. Harry snickered, and for a moment it almost felt as if things were back to normal.

Moments never last, however. If anything, the little episode made Ron more ornery. He tossed the next ingredient into the cauldron so hard that drops of the mixture splattered out across the table and their books. They both grimaced, but neither moved to clean it up. "Let's look at the facts, shall we?" Ron said, grabbing the knife to chop up the rest of their ingredients. "Snape _hated_ your father. From the moment he saw you that first day, he's been putting you down and treating you like dirt." Each sentence was punctuated by the sharp report of the knife hitting the cutting board, causing Harry to wince. "He was so nasty that we were sure he was the one working with You Know Who. Even once we figured out that he'd saved your life, he _still_ treated you horribly. Eventually we found out that he really was a Death Eater at one point. And then there's the Occlumency." He paused his chopping to turn to Harry. In a low tone he said intensely, "Harry, if he hadn't kicked you out last year, you probably wouldn't have had that vision. We never would have been at the Ministry that night."

He stopped there, which was a small favor, for Harry thought he might have hauled off and punched him in the nose if he'd actually mentioned Sirius. As it was he turned away and shut his eyes, breathing through his nose and mentally counting to ten. It wasn't as if this hadn't occurred to him. But there were extenuating factors, and he was doing his best to move past all of that.

When he'd calmed enough, he finally said, "I'm not just walking into this blindly. My eyes are open." He hesitated, then said truthfully, "I still don't feel entirely comfortable with him. But I guess I kind of feel…safe. Safer than I have in a long time—in reality, that is."

Ron snorted. "Safe with Snape. That's an oxymoron if ever I heard one."

Harry picked up one of the herbs from the table and held it over the cauldron, using it to make his point before he dropped it in. It flopped limply as he jabbed it in the air. "You don't know what you're talking about!" he hissed. "You haven't been there, and you have no idea what it's like for me! Maybe you should just shut up!"

Hermione turned around at that. "Honestly, you two…" She trailed off as she caught sight of the herb. An alarmed look crossed her face. "Harry, is that—"

Too late. He'd already let it slip from his fingers, into the cauldron…

The explosion was immediate, and _loud_. All Harry would remember later was the force slamming into him, knocking him off his feet and clear into the nearby wall.

Very briefly, fleetingly, he hoped everyone else had ducked. He might also have heard a very familiar cry of "Potter!" tinged with rebuke and alarm, just before everything went dark.

oOo

tbc


	12. Heart of the Matter

Surreality

By Perse

Chapter 12

oOo

He felt the jolt of immense pleasure first, before the scene really came into focus. When it did, he was walking down a narrow hallway, towards a large, open doorway at the end…there were footsteps behind him, matching his…

…They stepped through the opening, into what looked like a large family room…the bodies were lined up on the floor: clearly a mother and father, along with two little boys and a very young girl…

…His newest recruits stood to the side, awaiting his reaction…He gave them a nod, cold lips turning up slightly, letting them know he was quite satisfied indeed…

"It was a productive night. I knew you would be pleased, Master."

…He turned, gave a cursory glance to the dark-haired woman, then offered her a smile born of that pleasure and a certain pride in one of his most loyal servants…

"You have done well, Bella. Well indeed."

…She beamed, offering him a beautiful if sadistic smile…he turned back to look at the bodies, nodding appreciatively…he felt a strengthened security in his anticipation…though this had not required fighting skills, it had taught them not to abide mercy…they would be part of his army soon, his growing army…he could practically taste the coming bloodshed…and the power…

Harry came back to consciousness with a violent start. He opened his eyes, squinting into the dim light of the dungeon, easily identifying the form in front of him. His head hurt; a disorienting mixture of the pain of impact on the back and the burning of his scar in front.

"Mr. Potter," Snape said in way of greeting, his tone ambiguous.

Harry met his Professor's eyes for a moment before he squeezed his own shut once more. He drew in deep breaths through his nose, fighting nausea—and not entirely due to the splitting headache.

The bodies, the children…that was enough to turn his stomach. But with Bellatrix on top of it, it was near impossible for him to keep his so-enjoyed breakfast down. There were very few people that Harry would profess to hate. But Bellatrix LeStrange was one of them.

The emotions from the vision revolted him.

"Potter?" There was a hand on his shoulder now.

He swallowed a few times before he risked opening his eyes. Absently, he raised a hand to rub at his searing forehead.

Snape's features shifted ever so slightly. And Harry could tell, from that one slight gesture, that Snape had realized exactly what had just happened.

Still, Harry watched him easily fall back into his typical persona for benefit of their audience. "I warned you, did I not? The potion is volatile, and carelessness could have cost you much more that your already low grade, Mr. Potter." He paused, holding Harry's gaze before adding, "It looks as if I will be seeing you in detention yet again."

Harry easily caught the reference from their breakfast conversation. It calmed him somewhat. He brought probing fingers up to the back of his aching head, and was a bit surprised when they came away without blood. Apparently, it only felt as if he'd cracked his skull open.

Snape turned slightly to address someone right behind him, and Harry finally noticed that Ron was looking anxiously over Snape's shoulder. "Mr. Weasley, help him to my office. We should let Madame Pomfrey make certain he has not done any permanent damage."

With that Snape grabbed an arm and hefted him to his feet. The grip was tight, the handling a bit rough, and Harry suspected there had been at least a bit of real anger in Snape's harsh words. Ron quickly took him, protectively, glaring daggers at the Potions Master.

Blessedly, Snape ignored him and turned to shoo the rest of the class back to their potions.

Harry noted all of this absently. The pain and the remnants of the vision occupied most of his attention. With his right hand he latched onto the back of Ron's shirt and let his friend guide him out of the classroom and into Snape's office.

"Hermione went to get Madame Pomfrey," Ron said quietly as he paused to close the door.

Harry acknowledged it with a vague, "Hmm," as Ron led him to the chair in front of Snape's desk and sat him down.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut once again, hoping to steady the swaying room. When he opened them Ron was crouched before him, looking up at him anxiously. "Are you all right?"

For the moment at least, it was as if they hadn't fought at all. Harry could see Ron's intense concern. "I think so," he responded. "Did you manage to get out of the way, then?"

"I ducked under the table," Ron confessed. "It was a short blast, fairly controlled. You're the only one who really got hit. Snape was pretty mad that we'd messed up the potion."

Harry was pretty sure that that wasn't why Snape was mad, but he wasn't up to arguing the point. He raised his hand once more, rubbing hard to counter the pain of his scar.

Suddenly, he froze in the movement. And, for the moment at least, he forgot all about Bellatrix and those innocent children.

"My scar…"

"What?" Ron asked, gently prying his fingers away and pressing the back of his own hand to Harry's forehead. His touch was cool, and Harry leaned into it gratefully.

"My scar hurts," he repeated, an odd bit of wonder in his voice.

Ron's brow furrowed. "Did you have a vision then?"

Harry made a vague affirmative sound.

"Well, your scar always hurts after encounters with You-Know-Who, doesn't it?"

"Yeah…yeah, it usually does."

Ron was staring at him, expression concerned, probably wondering if something had come loose in his brain during the vision or the knock on the head.

But Harry didn't explain. He was busy puzzling things over, trying to get beyond the headache so he could think clearly. It wasn't working—it couldn't be. Because the wild conclusions he was coming to couldn't possibly be right.

He was distracted from this thinking when the door banged open. He winced as his head pounded along with the reverberating sound, then winced again as he caught Ron's reaction to Snape storming in.

Ron stood, limiting Harry's view of his facial expression, and placing himself clearly between Harry and the Potions Master.

Snape ignored him entirely. He took a rather neat sidestep that brought him around Ron and to Harry's side. He knelt down, looking searchingly at Harry. "You had a vision," he said, and it was a statement rather than a question.

Harry wasn't sure if he was expected to respond directly to that or not. Instead he commented darkly, "She looks a lot better than she did a few months ago—she must have been eating well."

"She?"

He focused on Snape again. "Bellatrix."

Snape lifted his chin slightly. "Tell me."

"There's this remote house," he paused, concentrating, then shook his head helplessly. "I'm sorry, I don't know where it is. I suppose they're beyond help, anyway."

"The house, Potter," Snape reminded when it seemed as if he was drifting. "What happened there?"

"There's a family—three kids…" he broke off, swallowing hard. "They're training their new recruits." He left it at that, unable to say more. He knew Snape could fill in the blanks.

The older man closed his eyes for a moment before he refocused on Harry. "I have no doubt that your head hurts. But I need you to occlude your mind; your defenses are weak right now."

Harry started to nod, but luckily thought better of it. "Yeah, okay," he said instead, twisting slightly to better face Snape. As he did so, he caught a brief glimpse of Ron's look as he watched—a mix of resentment, protectiveness, and confusion. Then he gave all his focus to his Professor.

Snape placed a hand on his forearm. "Close your eyes. Focus on me; empty your mind." He used the calm tone that he always used at night.

Harry latched onto that and tried to comply. But he couldn't—he kept coming back to a jumble of Bellatrix LeStrange, his scar, and lots of unexpected questions.

"Mr. Potter, you must relax," broke into his thoughts. He felt Snape lay a hand over each of his clinched fists, gently prying them from the arms of the chair and smoothing his fingers flat. "Breathe," Snape coached. "Deep breaths."

Harry did as he was told. Slowly, he was able to order his thoughts. He felt himself relaxing as he did so.

He finally opened his eyes again when he heard the door open. Snape gave him one last measuring look before he got to his feet to make room for Madame Pomfrey. As they exchanged places, Harry got a glimpse of both of his friends. Hermione looked happy to see him upright and conscious.

Ron was looking at Snape like he'd never seen him before.

oOo

Harry didn't sleep that night. That was an interesting feat, since Snape had taken to sitting with him until after he fell asleep. He'd had to put on a very good act—and it hadn't been easy. But even with his Professor's calm instruction, Harry couldn't occlude his mind. It was still racing with his earlier realization and all of the conclusions he'd drawn since.

By morning he was exhausted and miserable, and he finally thought he had answers to a question he never would have asked. He was ready for a confrontation.

He had to get through breakfast first. He was horribly grumpy, which seemed to be darkening Snape's mood as well. Their conversation was clipped and the meal finished as soon as possible. Snape kept casting him odd looks as he left the quarters and started upstairs.

Technically, he should be heading for class. But he thought this took precedence. He made his way to the stone gargoyle. He spent about five minutes calling out the names of various candies before the gargoyle finally jumped aside at "Licorice Wand," and the staircase began to move.

He rode it up and stepped out, pausing to cast a brief glance at the portraits on the wall as he made his way towards the desk and the man sitting behind it.

"Professor Dumbledore? Can I speak with you for a moment?"

The Headmaster looked up. "Certainly, Harry. Come in; take a seat."

Harry did so, sitting straight and rigid in the chair before the desk. He didn't bother with any more pleasantries. "I suppose Snape told you about my vision?"

"I would remind you to use his title, but perhaps you are past 'Professor' now. You might even call him Severus," the elderly wizard suggested, an undeniable twinkle in his eye.

Despite himself, Harry's lips quirked into a little smile. "I can't imagine how he'd react if I tried that. Maybe, if he ever decides to call me Harry instead of Mr. Potter, I'll think about it."

"It will happen."

Harry shook himself then, wondering how he'd allowed himself to be led off track. "Can I assume your effort to distract me means that he did talk to you?"

Dumbledore studied him closely as he admitted, "He spoke to me, yes. Are you particularly concerned with this vision?"

Harry shrugged stiffly. "It was bad, sure. I suppose I might worry about how many new Death Eaters they're training, and if that sort of thing will be happening again." He paused, and watched Dumbledore's reactions carefully. "What I am particularly concerned with is my scar, and the burning. It's been a while since I've felt that."

"Really?" Curiosity with a tad of concern. Harry could detect nothing more. Dumbledore was as difficult to read as Snape.

"Yes. And I think that's a bit funny, what with the dreams he's been sending me. In the past, nearly every time Voldemort's been connected to me, my scar has burned. But it didn't. Not with any of the dreams, not even the last one."

When the Headmaster didn't respond other than with a slight tilt of his head, Harry continued. "Ron was worried about me being so close to Snape. He was worried that Voldemort might have motivation to want me close to him. And if Snape's true loyalties lie with Voldemort, well, let's face it. That plan makes an uncomfortable amount of sense."

Now Dumbledore spoke up again. "Severus is not working for Voldemort, Harry," he said adamantly.

"I need to know why you're so sure of that."

"That is not my story to tell."

Harry eyed him warily. He'd known since first year that Dumbledore had an unusually strong and resilient attachment to Snape. More than anything, he wanted to know why. He expected that it would justify the security he now felt with Snape. He also hadn't really expected Dumbledore to tell him. "Yeah, I thought you'd say that. Someday, I'm going to find out."

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "Yes, I expect that you will."

"That wasn't really the point, either," Harry stated brashly. "The point is that Ron was right. The dreams were planted for the purpose of pushing me closer to Snape." He paused to lock his gaze with the Headmaster's. "They just weren't from Voldemort."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow and regarded him in silence. Harry was almost certain he saw a hint of resignation in the elderly eyes.

He pushed ahead. "It was process of elimination, really. Voldemort is the only one outside of Hogwarts connected to me and strong enough to get into my head from such a distance. If it wasn't him, it had to be someone in close proximity. I don't know that much about legilimency. But with what I do know…the dreams were done without eye contact, without anyone in my immediate vicinity. I only know of one person here strong enough and with enough knowledge of my parents to have pulled this off."

There was dead silence for a moment as they studied each other. Then Dumbledore finally asked, "Are you angry?"

"Don't you think I have a right to be?" Harry answered softly, intensely. That essentially answered his question, but he wanted to hear it aloud. "Are you confirming it?"

Dumbledore gazed at him, then finally nodded slightly, once.

Harry fought to keep his emotions in. He'd spent the night going through all of this in his mind, pretty much accepting this conclusion and moving on to what it meant. This meant that it was Dumbledore who'd so recognized that need in him, and not Voldemort. He supposed he should be grateful for that. But he was having trouble being grateful for anything right then. "Then why Snape?" he choked out, dismayed by the tears evident in his voice. "Why choose someone I'd have so much trouble getting close to?" He hesitated only a moment before adding in a whisper, "Why not you?"

A pained look crossed the weathered face. "I shall not be around forever, Harry," he said gently. "And you and Severus are kindred souls. You may not believe that, but it is true."

"Oh, well, that makes it all all right, then," Harry sputtered, tone dripping with sarcasm. He stood, unable to sit still any longer, and began to pace.

"I do feel that I need to ask forgiveness for my methods. But I rather felt I had few options. As you saw yesterday, even with all you have learned, your connection with Voldemort is still strong and very much a threat. You needed to learn Occlumency, before it became a real danger again."

"And you couldn't do it yourself because…" he trailed off meaningfully, but then answered his own question as realization hit him, light dawning in his eyes. "Because you don't want me to get more attached to you. You've been trying to push me closer to Snape for a while now." He stared at the man, trying to make sense of that. "Are you so sure that's a good idea? Don't you think you need Snape out there, with all of his detachedness?"

"While he is quite an asset in the field, I have come to believe that you need him more here, Harry." He let that sink in for a moment before adding, "He is looking for redemption. He has never considered that it might not be found in Voldemort's inner circle or with the Order, but rather right here in the halls of Hogwarts. And he has never imagined that it might come with a connection to someone else." He paused to take a deep calming breath, then said intensely, "Harry—that need for others and desire for love…Voldemort would see that as your greatest weakness. But it is in that that he will underestimate you."

Harry forced himself to think for a moment before he spoke again. "It wasn't fair. To let me see what I could have had like that. It hurt," he finished softly.

There was pain in Dumbledore's expression as well. "I know. Please know that I did not want to hurt you, Harry. I knew it would take something desperate to bring you closer to Severus. My goal was to make things better for you."

"Don't get me wrong; I hear what you're saying. And I think the end result is turning out exactly as you would have liked. But the way you went about it…" Harry trailed off, shaking his head. "I fell asleep on the Quidditch field! I could have killed myself, and Ron!"

"Yes, that was an unfortunate incident. But it did provide cause to move you into Severus' quarters. I had rather hoped it would end the need for the charade entirely."

"What about the whole thing about joining them in the last dream…weren't you afraid that I might actually do it?"

Dumbledore promptly shook his head. "No. You're a smart boy, Harry, and you're strong. You're not suicidal. I knew you wouldn't think it real. It was time to convince you that there was a real threat there; that you had to take the Occlumency seriously and that you were better off in reality than in the dreams." Dumbledore seemed quite confident in all of that, more so than Harry himself was. "But, just to be safe, you were not alone in the house that night."

He cast a meaningful glance over his shoulder, which Harry followed. Fawkes looked down at him from his perch, eyes seeming quite human at that moment. The Phoenix bowed his head.

Harry shook his own head slightly. Even though he'd had the night to puzzle through this, it hadn't seemed entirely real then. This was too much to process; he wanted to get out of there. But there was one last thing he had to know. "Snape doesn't know, does he? He really thinks it was Voldemort?"

Dumbledore looked him in the eyes. "He has no idea it was me."

"Then this really doesn't change anything between me and Snape," Harry stated with certainty, appreciating the connection even more now. "And I hope that makes you happy. Because it very much changes how I feel about you." He hesitated when the elderly wizard shut his eyes briefly. Still, he continued honestly, "I'm not sure how much I trust you anymore."

With that, he turned his back on the first adult who'd ever made him feel safe, and he walked out.

He didn't look back. He didn't see Dumbledore look up after him, a certain sadness present amongst the resignation on his face.

oOo

Harry was storming down the hallway, paying little attention to his surroundings and with no real direction, when he was abruptly grabbed by the arm and manhandled into a room.

He sighed when he recognized the Room of Requirement. "This is getting to be a habit," he muttered, rolling his eyes as he turned back to face Ron and Hermione. He didn't wait for them to speak. "Look, I don't need this little intervention, or whatever it is. I'm fine. And Snape _is_ on our side. I'm not in the mood for this."

They both seemed a bit taken aback. Hermione recovered first. "Harry…has something happened?"

"I'm not ready to talk about it, all right? But it has nothing to do with Snape." Harry took in their deeply concerned looks and sighed, calming down a bit. "I'm sorry. But I am all right. I can take care of myself, and I need you to trust me here."

Ron still looked unhappy, but Hermione silenced him with a look. Then she turned back to Harry. "All right. We actually have something a little more important to talk to you about."

More important than Snape luring him to the dark side? Harry gazed at them warily, and tried to brace himself. "What?" he asked with a bit of dread.

Hermione looked to Ron, but he just looked back at her, apparently unwilling to take up whatever the topic was. Harry tried to brace himself further as she huffed and turned back to him. "Harry, that last dream…where You-Know-Who was trying to get you to…" she twirled her hand and forewent the actual words. "We'd like to talk about that."

For something she wanted to talk about, she sure seemed to be having a hard time doing so. Harry opened his mouth to tell them that, as it turned out, that wasn't the point of the dreams. He got as far as "That wasn't—" before he changed his mind, and broke off, shaking his head. He wasn't going to tell them—not yet, anyway. Not until he'd had more time to think on it himself.

Unfortunately, they were misinterpreting his reluctance to answer. They exchanged an uneasy glance with each other, and Ron stepped forward this time. "Harry, you'd never really think about…I mean—you'd never actually…hurt yourself, would you?"

And now he got the point of this conversation. Harry bit his lip, and didn't allow himself to ponder his answer. When he said, "No," it sounded far away, as if someone else had said it.

Hermione didn't seem to quite buy it either. "Because you should know that we'd be very upset—and not about a missing hero, but about _you_."

He swallowed hard and looked away from his friends' penetrating gazes. Truthfully, he didn't think he'd ever have it in him to commit suicide. He really didn't want to die. But hurting himself—he'd skirted that a few times over the summer. Especially if one included things like not eating or sleeping on occasion. He had been becoming uncomfortably acquainted with depression.

Hermione stepped closer, slipping her hand into his. "Harry?"

He finally looked back at her, then past her to Ron. It was blatantly obvious how much they cared for him, and it made his voice shake as he finally spoke. "I…I've had a hard time since Sirius died. You both know that." He glanced between them, then took to studying the floor. "It was a really hard summer. And I can't say that there weren't a couple of times…" he trailed ,off, swallowing hard. But then he looked back up at them. "But even then, I wouldn't have killed myself, I promise you that. And I'm feeling a lot better, now. I've worked through some of it. And you should know that Snape has been a big part of that."

He found his gaze caught in Hermione's. She was studying him closely. After a few moments she finally nodded, then let go of his hand and stepped closer, slipping her arms around him in a tight hug.

He closed his eyes and held her in return.

After a bit, Ron cleared his throat, prompting them to pull away from each other.

Hermione looked at him seriously again. "As for this thing with Snape—"

Harry cut her off. "Hermione…" he said warningly.

She tipped her chin up and stared at him. "You have to admit that your judgment has been faulty in the past. Ron isn't wrong to be worried about this. That said, I do trust you here. If Snape can be good for you, and vice versa, then I'm all for it. But I will be keeping a very close eye on you."

Harry grinned ruefully. "Thanks."

She gave him a slight smile in return. "Sure." Then she turned. "And I really think there's something else going on here, other that Ron's distrust of Snape." With that she grasped Ron's elbow, pulling him forward. "Now, I'm going to let you two talk."

"Oh, yes. That turned out well last time." Harry hadn't really meant to say that aloud, but his bad mood had begun creeping back with the turn of conversation. Somehow, he felt even worse when Ron winced at the words.

Hermione was glaring at him. "Are you going to be civil?"

They looked at each other for a moment, then nodded wordlessly to her.

She arched an eyebrow as she glanced between them. "Are you going to say two words to each other?"

Nether of them answered her. Harry shrugged slightly.

"Men." She rolled her eyes, then said warningly, "I'm going to be right outside that door. If I hear you yelling, I'll be back in here in two seconds flat."

With that she turned and stepped outside, leaving Harry and Ron staring at each other uncomfortably. After a bit Ron finally broke the silence. "Look, I still don't like Snape, and I can't promise you that I ever will. But I did see him with you yesterday. And I believe that, at the very least, he is helping you."

"He is," Harry said with certainty.

Ron still looked somewhat doubtful. But he said only, "Someday, we've really got to figure out why Dumbledore's so sure about him."

"He won't tell us. He doles out information in tiny pieces, on his own timetable," Harry put in with a trace of bitterness.

Ron gave him an odd look at that, but didn't comment on it. "Look…I'm not even sure how this fight happened. I was just worried."

"You've got as many issues with Snape as I had, and you really haven't had much reason to change your mind. Nothing but my word." Harry was inclined to let it go now, especially since he'd seen how deeply concerned Ron was about him. He knew this had all been born of that concern. Still, he needed to say something more. "I really need you to take my word here. Not that I don't appreciate that you're looking out for me, I do. I just…I need you to let me make my own decision here. I understand the risk, but the reward is worth it."

Ron met his eyes, and slowly nodded. "Okay."

"What do you suppose Hermione was talking about? About something else going on here?"

Ron shrugged. "I dunno. She has a tendency to be a bit mental; you know that."

There was a muffled exclamation from the other side of the door, then it was flung open. Hermione stuck her head back in. "I am not the mental one, Ronald. He's jealous, Harry," she informed, then gave Ron a somewhat nasty look before she pulled back and shut the door once more.

They both stared after her for a moment, then Harry turned his stare to Ron. "Jealous?" he asked incredulously.

"I don't know what she's talking about!" Ron protested.

"You do so!" came her muffled response.

"Hey, this is supposed to be a private conversation you know!" he called back.

Harry drew his attention back. "Ron?"

Ron glanced at him, then looked down as his face tinted red. "Okay, maybe I have missed you lately. Maybe there is a tiny element of jealousy in there. But it's very tiny. It was mostly concern."

Harry tried not to smile, but he didn't think he'd succeeded. Ron was jealous of the time he'd been spending with Snape. He _never_ would have seen that coming. But as the best friend who'd watched Ron with his family and felt a jealousy all his own, he could understand it. "Look, I was only staying away from you guys because I couldn't deal with everything. I promise I'll be around more, all right?"

Ron cut his eyes to him. "You'll let us keep an eye on you and Snape?"

"I will," he agreed with an exaggerated huff.

They shared a smile.

And then, just when Harry thought they were past the hard part, Ron sighed and came closer. "Harry, about the hurting-yourself-thing…"

Harry cut him off, shaking his head in denial. "Ron—"

Ron held his hands out, placating. "Just promise me that if you ever feel like that you'll come and talk to me, or someone, all right?"

Once again, the concern in his friend's manner was almost overwhelming for Harry. He nodded and said softly, "I promise."

Ron eyed him for a moment, then nodded. Looking a bit uncertain, he nevertheless stepped closer still and wrapped Harry in a hug of his own.

Awkward though it was, it was heartfelt. Harry allowed himself a small smile as he returned the embrace. He held on, letting the warmth of being cared for wash through him, and refused to give in to the moisture that was trying to gather in his eyes.

After a bit the awkwardness overcame the pure emotion, and they let go with manly-sort of pats on the back, looking anywhere but at each other. Ron stepped back and cleared his throat.

Harry finally said, "So, any more serious, emotionally-scarring issues we need to take care of?" He laughed weakly.

Ron gave him a wry smile. "I think that's all for now. Thank Merlin."

"Well, I suppose we could go to class. You know how there was a point back there where I was actually ahead? Well, that didn't really last."

Ron smirked. "Hey, you've been distracted. I could…" he trailed off, as Harry was watching him doubtfully, knowing that he hadn't been all that focused himself. "Yeah, probably not. Don't worry. Hermione will help both of us. She'd pass all her classes, even if she had to take the exams in the middle of a battle."

Through the door came an indignant, "I heard that!"

oOo


	13. Epilogue: The Waking World

Surreality

By Perse

Epilogue

oOo

_Harry awoke to warm, short puffs of breath on his face._

_Wrinkling his nose, he opened his eyes. He found himself staring up into a shaggy black face. "Padfoot, its early," he whined, though he honestly had no idea what time it was. It felt early._

_Padfoot didn't seem to care. Harry let his eyes drift shut again, only to suddenly have a long tongue licking his nose. "Padfoot!" he complained, but giggled at the ticklish sensation as the tongue poked at his neck. "Fine, fine! I'm awake!"_

_He rolled away and sat up, only to find that he had an audience. He squinted at the fuzzy forms as he reached for his glasses. He started to smile at his parents before the realization hit him. His parents were dead. He glanced apprehensively at the dog beside him as it jumped off the mattress and slowly morphed into his godfather._

"_I'm not awake, am I?"_

_He knew he'd occluded his mind before bed, so this was somewhat concerning. But during the planted visions, he'd never realized that they weren't real. The nightmare had come from his own conscious; this must be as well._

"_I'm dreaming," he announced to the three figments of his imagination. "This isn't real."_

"_No," his mother said gently, coming to sit in front of him on the bed. "But we are here because you wish to speak with us."_

_Harry bit his lip, glancing between them all. His father came to join them on the bed. "What is it, son?"_

"_I miss you all," Harry finally choked out._

_Lily reached a hand to caress his cheek. "I know, sweetie. We miss you, too."_

"_I am sorry that we can't be there," James said softly, squeezing his shoulder._

"_I know it's hard. But Severus will take good care of you," his mother went on softly._

"_Snape?" Sirius exclaimed dubiously from his place near the head of the bed. " Snape!" _

_James looked a bit unhappy at this statement as well. But Lily declared, "Despite everything, he has become a good man. And he is there when we cannot be. Have you ever known Albus Dumbledore to be wrong about someone?"_

"_I didn't see him doing much to get me out of Azkaban," Sirius groused._

_Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Well, he did sort of have a hand in your escape from Hogwarts that night. He believed that you were innocent."_

"_Dumbledore is very wise. He does always have your best interests at heart," James put in. "I suppose if he went to so much trouble to put you with Snape…"_

_Sirius was still not happy with this. "In case you've forgotten, Snape hated you, Prongs. I never saw any indications that he felt any differently towards Harry."_

"_That's because you died!" Harry exclaimed suddenly. "If you hadn't, you'd be around to see…" He trailed off realizing that if Sirius hadn't died, it was doubtful that any of this would have happened._

_Quite abruptly, tears welled up in his eyes. "I'm sorry," he choked out._

"_It's all right." Sirius brushed it off easily, and Harry realized he thought he was apologizing for yelling at him._

"_No," he whispered. "I'm sorry I got you killed."_

_Sirius' expression changed. "Oh, Harry." He quickly took a seat on the edge of the bed beside him, looking at him urgently. "That was not your fault. Don't you dare blame yourself."_

_Harry chewed on his bottom lip. "Then who do you blame?" he asked hesitantly, expecting and dreading to hear him name Snape._

_Sirius met his eyes for a moment. "Bellatrix. Maybe Voldemort." He looked away. "Maybe myself, a bit. But that's all."_

_Harry gazed at him through blurry eyes. "I wish you hadn't gone."_

_Sirius looked to him again, then slung an arm around him to pull him into a rough one-armed hug. "Me too, Harry. But it is good to know that you are not alone. Remember, Remus cares a great deal for you as well." He cringed slightly, then forced out, "And, if Snape can make you happy, I suppose that's a good thing."_

_Harry smiled ruefully, knowing that was hard for him. "Thanks," he whispered, leaning his head against his godfather's shoulder for a moment._

_Sirius gave him a last squeeze before he released him and stood. "I'll let you talk to your parents. I love you, kiddo."_

_Harry scrunched up his face against the tears, and tried to smile. "I love you, too."_

_As Sirius left, he turned back to his parents._

_James leaned closer and planted a kiss on his forehead. "You've got a hard task in front of you, Harry. But Sirius was right; it is good to know you're not alone."_

_Lily waited until he had sat back before scooting closer and wrapping his arms around him. Harry melted against her._

"_We love you, son. We'll always be with you."_

oOo

Harry opened his eyes somewhat reluctantly. He sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, moving to press his palms against his eyes.

Dreams were the mind's way of working through things shoved out of conscious thought, right? So did his subconscious really believe all of that?

There was a degree to which he was relieved that the dreams had ultimately been from Dumbledore. It meant that he didn't have to view them with fear and repulsion. In a way, Dumbledore had given him a gift by letting him see them. By planting enough in his head for him to come up with a dream of his own.

That didn't mean that he was all right with it. He was still very uncertain, and he knew that he would need time.

After a moment, he sighed and took a last swipe at his eyes before he stood, making his way into the main room. His mood lightened a good deal as he made his way towards the table, once again filled with breakfast. Snape had obviously noted which things he preferred over the last couple of days, for that was what had reappeared today.

"Good morning Mr. Potter."

Harry quirked a small smile, and took a seat. "I had a dream," he admitted as he reached for a plate.

Snape looked at him sharply. "Oh?" he asked seriously.

"Not a vision, not a nightmare, just…a regular dream. I wasn't even sure I could have those anymore," he confessed softly.

"Not a nightmare, but not a happy dream?" Snape hazarded after a moment.

Harry shrugged. "It was my parents and Sirius again. But I knew it was a dream this time. They…it was like they were telling me goodbye."

Snape considered him somberly as he took his own seat across from Harry. "I know that this is…difficult for you," he finally said. "I'm not sure how much assistance I would be, but I am here if you wish to try."

"Thanks," Harry responded softly. He appreciated the effort more than he would ever be able to say. Still, it was obvious that Snape was unaccustomed to this. Harry felt the need to lighten the mood. "Was _that_ difficult for you?" he asked, smile tugging at his lips.

Snape looked at him askance as he raised his glass. "You have no idea," he responded dryly before taking a sip of the juice.

Harry smiled and reached to take a taste from his own glass. They ate in silence for a bit before Harry looked up again. He chewed on his lip.

Snape glanced up and caught him doing so. "Something you wish to discuss?"

"Do you still hate me?" Harry asked abruptly.

Snape was clearly taken aback. But when he spoke, he was perfectly composed. "I do not."

"But you did, right?" Harry pressed, not really knowing why he felt so compelled to do so.

Snape answered carefully, "I greatly disliked the person I thought you to be."

It took Harry a moment to interpret that. "So…you think I'm different now?"

"I think that I overestimated the arrogance that I assumed your fame would have brought you."

Harry was beginning to think that Snape was choosing his phraseology solely to make him think before he responded. It was working. After a moment he shook his head slightly and said, "About that…I really didn't know how to cope with the fame. The first time I met you, I'd known I was famous for all of a month. And while there may have been a few times when I liked it, for the most part I've just wished it would go away." He paused, then said very softly, "I'd have given it all up in a heartbeat to have one person who cared for me while I was growing up."

"You are still growing up, Mr. Potter," Snape said, a curiously tender note in his tone.

It gave Harry a rush of warmth, and gave him the courage to say impulsively, "I don't suppose you could call me Harry?"

Snape gave him a sideways glance and tilted his head. "Harry," he said slowly, as if the word were from a foreign language and tasted funny on his tongue.

Harry couldn't help his snort of laughter. He brought a hand up to cover his mouth when Snape glared. "That was great," he managed to say with a straight face. "Maybe we could work on it?"

"Perhaps," Snape said with slightly narrowed eyes. "We can work on it after detention, which you and Mr. Weasley _are_ going to serve tonight for that abominable example of potion-making."

Harry tried to resist the urge to pout—but not very hard. "I thought you were kidding about that."

Both eyebrows went up. "Do I strike you as a kidder, Mr…Harry?"

And that forced Harry to try to cover his giggles once more before he went back to his food, neglecting to answer.

As they ate, Harry kept glancing up at the man. The man he had hated for so long; the man he was now beginning to see as his salvation.

It still didn't compare to the dreams. But they had been surreal. He clearly wasn't meant to have that life.

Perhaps he could get used to his new reality.

oOo

_The End_…

A few notes:

I want to send huge thanks to all my readers and reviewers! I've really loved writing this story, and hearing from you all has made it all the much more enjoyable. I hope you have liked reading it.

I especially appreciate those of you who left in depth feedback. Several of your comments got me thinking in different directions and helped the story along. I had a plan in my head from the beginning, but it evolved and grew longer than expected!

For the record, I really like Ron. He's one of my favorite characters. His and Harry's relationship lends itself very well to this type of story because they can fight and then get over it and go back to being the best of friends, and because Ron is the type to distrust Snape and to say exactly what he's thinking about it. But their friendship has been forged in fire and it continues to stand up, and I think Ron's a great friend.

As long as we're on that record, I like Dumbledore as well. But I question some of the decisions he's made in canon, and I really liked that we got to see the human side of him at the end of Book 5. Admittedly, I was hoping to create a surprising twist for the end of the story. But my intention here was not to make him the bad guy; rather I wanted to explore the idea of him using his power to do what he thinks is best. I think he cares greatly for both Harry and Snape, and would easily recognize that they could both benefit from a relationship like this. He would also know that it would take something drastic to get them to consider each other that way.

Of course, not everything is settled and happy. I have a couple of sequels in the works, one of which is half-written in my mind. This will all be AU very shortly anyway, so I suppose I'm planning this series as my own version of Harry's final years at Hogwarts. Anybody interested:)


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